The Summer of Punk
by slaygirl190
Summary: John Cena has it bad for CM Punk who can barely tolerate him. With Punk leaving the WWE, maybe it's time to take a chance
1. Chapter 1

_June 27, 2011_

Unrequited love, bad.

Complete lack of respect from said unrequited love, worse.

Still pining for him after he had a part in putting you through a table, total masochism.

It had come over him so gradually that by the time John realized it he was neck deep in what could only be described as a hopeless situation. Punk was straight edge in more ways than just his lifestyle choice. His words could slice you open at his slightest whim. And they did, frequently. His less than sunny disposition had not endeared him to the rest of the boys in the back.

Punk had screwed him in the tables match. Not, he noted, the type of screwing that invaded his dreams. Still propped up by the broken table he could see Punk grab a mic. This could only lead to trouble, and not snow angels type of trouble. He was not looking forward to the brutal verbal beat down he was getting ready to receive. A beat down that would hurt more than any table shot.

As the silent seconds passed John's anxiety grew. And then Punk started talking, taking aim straight at him. He held his breath waiting for onslaught of negativity, and there it was, the mockery he had been waiting for.

And then…he was choking on oxygen. Punk liked him? Liked him more than most of the guys in the back? This was news to him. Entirely welcome news that was worth being crashed through a table for. And then moments later he was back to being berated. But being picked apart by someone you loved who seemed to at least be willing to tolerate your presence took most of the sting from his words.

John almost started laughing? Him, the best wrestler? He wondered if Punk had ever read any wrestling sites because there were legions of people ready to hotly disagree with that statement.

Punk, the best wrestler in the world? He would agree that he was definitely up there with the best in the world. And John would know, having wrestled Punk before. Then again, his opinion was entirely unreliable as those matches were opportunities to put his hands on Punk without repercussions, so the technical aspects were a little hazy. But the best? Even in his infatuation clogged brain he could count the guys on one hand that would take exception to that statement. And in some hotel room somewhere Chris Jericho was probably breaking a lamp and yelling about blatant gimmick infringement.

And now he was an ass kisser which he definitely took exception to. He didn't have to kiss ass. John knew he was the main attraction that kept this brand going. And Vince McMahon was completely aware of that. He had the man's respect after toiling for years on the mid-card to get where he was today.

And then the promo started to go in a direction that was definitely flirting with the line that all the guys knew not to cross. And then he brought up Dwayne, which was a no-no, and line was officially overstepped.

Punk was right in saying that he had been treated badly. He had made it to the top and just as swiftly kicked right back down again.

And again Punk reasserted that he was leaving the WWE. Last week when Punk said it he had taken it as an empty threat. Just something to say to get the crowd heated up again. But now the threat didn't seem so empty. So Punk was really leaving, and apparently leaving with his title and the fractured pieces of his heart.

John felt like crying but that was best saved til later when he was alone in his hotel room. And then, on a dime, he was silently laughing, thinking about that ridiculous commentary coat and a returned can of Diet Pepsi.

And then Punk went on, and on. John wanted to scream at him to shut the hell up and stop committing career suicide. New Japan? Ring of Honor? Punk couldn't put make himself any more unreachable if he was consciously trying.

And then he started in on Vince. There were probably more lamps breaking somewhere as Punk went on. Now it was Hunter and Stephanie's turn. John looked around waiting for Triple H to come out of the shadows somewhere and beat Punk silly with a sledgehammer.

And then the mic was cut. John sent up a prayer of thanks to whoever had cut the feed. Not that it would matter, Punk had gone so far past the point of no return that he would be lucky to even get a match on Superstars until Money in the Bank when his contract ran out. He was still the #1 contender. Not even an impromptu rant could change that.

* * *

><p>John was walking past locker rooms looking for Punk. He felt emboldened by Punk's words at the start of his promo. He finally found him alone. No doubt the rest of the guys had run for the hills, afraid that Punk's brand of toxic crazy might be contagious. Punk's eyes had a manic gleam to them.<p>

"Oh look, it's everyone's favorite ass kisser. Come to tell me that there's no way that I'm leaving with your title," Punk replied viciously.

"No, Punk. I've come to tell you that there's no way you'll even be able to walk to the ring come Money in the Bank much less win my title. You're gonna be crushed on a daily basis. You must know this or did your tirade short circuit your brain?"

"I finally got to say the things I've been living with for years, my brain is perfectly fine thank you very much. Now if you wouldn't mind, could you get the hell out of my locker room before you blind me with your ring attire?"

"As far as insults go that was pretty unoriginal. I think half of the WWE Universe got to that joke before you."

"That's because it's a classic and your neverending color wheel of shirts won't let it die."

"I didn't come in here to cut dueling promos. I think you've done enough talking tonight. Are you really serious about leaving the WWE? I didn't think you were when you said it last week, but now that you've dug yourself into a hole you'll never get out of, I can see why you're splitting. Being trampled by the likes of Khali regularly can't be how you want to spend the rest of your wrestling years, which is what you have to look forward to after tonight.

"Of course I know this, I'm not stupid."

"I think that promo would probably argue otherwise."

"Oh My God, can you just leave? I don't want to spend time dealing with you when I could be reliving my moment of glory."

"Fine. I'll leave. I just wanted to tell you that I'll miss having you around once you're gone. You made the place fun which is quite a victory."

John turned around and left the locker room. What he didn't see was the stricken look on Punk's face as he walked out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

June 28, 2011

Punk got the call at 10AM from John Laurinaitis, that sniveling snake. Suspended Indefinitely. He was both shocked and shocked not at all. He was the #1 Contender. He had a title match at Money in the Bank in two weeks. What inept wrestler were they going to find to take his spot? Probably some hulking moron that could barely perform between the ropes.

They were just throwing him away. Wiping the slate clean of his WWE career completely. Sure, he thought he might get in trouble for his words, but he never thought they would just unceremoniously show him the door.

This was not his only problem though. The other problem went by the name John Cena. What had started out as a predictable exchange of words in the locker room turned into something completely confusing.

John had never been responsible for the frequent downward spirals that his career had taken, but he never really acknowledged his existence outside the ring in any way. Sure, there was that one time after he won the ECW Championship. Then again, John Cena had never been accused of being a master of words like himself.

What the hell had John meant by saying he would miss him. How could you miss someone you barely knew? It was such a sentimental thing to say, especially to someone, at the time, had let the world know he intended to walk away with his title. And not just a walk to the locker room, but a walk all the way back to Chicago.

Still, John's words irked him. Sure, he had always found John's particular brand of camp endearing and physically…well, he was sure that he wasn't the only guy in the back whose fantasies sometimes starred John Cena.

Why though? What precisely had changed between him and John that caused him to say the things he said? And why now when he was on the way out the door? He thought back to his promo and realized what he had said about John. That he liked him more than most of the guys in the back. He had apparently green-lighted something. But what?

June 29, 2011

Punk wasn't on the plane. Sometimes guys missed flights, but a flight to Australia? Punk was there in spirit though because he was all anyone could talk about. Half the roster thought he was a hero and the other half thought he must have sustained a head injury. It was universally agreed that the promo was a career changer, what direction his career would take, well that was up in the air. The rumor mill was running overtime and John was just as clueless as anyone.

June 30, 2011

Okay so his career wasn't over, just the WWE part. He had received numerous phone calls from friends in other promotions that would love to take him on. There had even been a furtive call from TNA that he was not even going to consider. If he thought WWE was bad, TNA was like a constant train wreck. Apparently people didn't need confirmation that he had been kicked to the curb, they had just assumed rightly.

His cell started ringing again. He was tempted to just let it go to voicemail since it was an unknown caller, but the unknown calls were pretty entertaining lately so he decided to answer.

"Why aren't you in Australia?"

"Who the hell is this?"

"It's John Cena."

Oh great, yet more confusion.

"And how did you get this number?"

"I got it off one of the road agents. Apparently he was a fan of your infamous promo."

"And you are calling why?"

"Again, why aren't you in Australia?"

John sounded pretty annoyed at this point.

"I'm hiding in plain sight to avoid the hit that the McMahon family put out on me."

"Stop screwing around."

"Fine. I've been suspended. Indefinitely."

"What!"

"You heard me. They're just going to let my contract run out. It's not my fault people can't take criticism."

"Criticism. Is that what you're calling your performance these days?"

"Yes. You need to get confirmation on my employment status to win a bet or something?"

"Does that sound like something I would do?"

"Probably not, but there could be a lot of money riding on this."

"I'm not planning on telling anyone about this."

"And why is that?"

"I'm going to fix this."

"Great SuperCena gets to rescue the damsel in distress. And while your vow of silence is charming there's no reason to do that. I'm sure it'll be all over the dirt sheets soon enough."

"I'm still going to fix this."

"And you think the Vince the fascist dictator is going to bow to your will? I think you're deluded. And why do you even care? Didn't I guarantee your defeat at Money in the Bank on several occasions?"

"Yes you did, and obviously I don't agree, but I would rather shoot myself in the foot than deal with del Rio more than absolutely possible."

"A fate worse than death. Don't blame me when you don't get anywhere with this."

"Just watch me."

July 4, 2011

By the end of the week everyone knew.

A few people were genuinely upset but the more predatory saw just one less rung to climb to get to the top.

John had called Vince earlier in the day and Vince had agreed to meet with him. Vince was a smart man but he probably didn't think that his golden boy was going to go out in front of the audience and cut a promo to rival Punk's. Hell, he didn't know if he had the guts to go out there and say what he had planned. He was going to risk it all to get Punk back in the ring and their match back on. People talked about being crazy in love. And that's exactly what he was going to do, something crazy. He was standing in front of the curtain, not quite shaking in his sneakers but something close. And then his music hit…no backing out now.

He walked down the ramp in a way that showed he meant business and the entire WWE Universe was going to hear what he had to say.

He didn't need to lie to get his point across and he didn't spare Punk from what he thought he deserved. Punk was being disloyal. He was acting like a jackass in trying to take the WWE Title and make a run for it. John respected the lineage of the title and all those famous names that had come before him.

As he went on he could see the shock on most of the crowd's faces. He was taking the side of someone that as far as the crowd knew, he disliked greatly. Here their Champ was defending someone that had torn him apart on the mic last week. He didn't agree with most of what Punk had said, but his promo had him thinking about some of the other incidents that had gone on recently on the brand, especially the signs. That angered the most of all because he had a theory that most of those signs were probably not that complimentary of him and people had a right to say whatever they wanted.

He was calling Vince McMahon out onto the carpet to explain himself. He was sure the boys in the back who he counted as friends were yelling at the monitors for him to shut the hell up. No good can come from threatening the Chairman, as Punk had proven the week before.

And then John took a stroll into no man's land. He was sure the crowd and the locker room were entirely confused as why he was demanding to face Punk at Money in the Bank. Sure he was a champion that took on all comers, but calling Vince out just so he could wrestle a specific someone?

He just as well could have sent Punk a Valentine's Day card to make his interest anymore obvious.

Walking back to the locker room he was getting a range of stares, complete confusion being the most popular.

When he got to the locker room and walked in the guys immediately quieted because they had obviously just been talking about him.

John Morrison was the only one to speak up.

"John, your cell has been blowing up since you finished your promo."

John pulled out his cell phone. 3 missed calls, all from Punk.


	3. Chapter 3

John turned his cell to silent. After 3 more missed calls the ringing stopped. He wasn't sure if he should call Punk back now or wait until after the end of the show. He found a secluded spot in the back and stared at his phone trying to come to a decision. He was also avoiding the monitors so he didn't have to watch this farce of a #1 Contenders match. He didn't care who won because his plans for Money in the Bank did not include any of the three men in the match.

He kept staring at his phone as if a text message would pop up tell him what to do. He finally decided to wait until after the show when he could be sure of having privacy in his hotel room.

Passing a set of monitors he saw Alberto del Rio celebrating his win. Great. If things didn't go his way he would have to face that pompous jackass with his rented cars and his grating ring announcer. The only positive he could find is being able to beat del Rio within an inch of his life.

He watched the show while waiting for McMahon to find him and convince him to talk far away from any cameras. That's when he heard the music hit. McMahon was making his way to the ring. He had underestimated Vince McMahon, which was stupid on his part. McMahon pride apparently knew no bounds. He hurried to the curtains knowing he was going to have to go out there and attempt to put Vince in his place, no easy task.

Cutting straight to the chase he started tearing Punk down. John noticed the crowd was fiercely booing the Chairman. They probably weren't fans of CM Punk, but hatred of Vince McMahon seemed to unite the WWE Universe like nothing else. It didn't matter what came out of Vince's mouth, the crowd was going to instantly disagree. John couldn't keep the smile off his face even considering the present situation.

And then Vince revealed to the crowd Punk's contract negotiations. John really had to stop taking some of the things Punk said as a joke. Had he really asked McMahon for all those perks? Sure he got all those things himself, not that he asked for them. And then Vince was finished and started to leave the ring. He had just ended someone's career in less than three minutes.

He motioned for the tech to cue up his music. Now he was pissed and on a mission. Vince didn't look that happy to see him. He would be even unhappier if he knew the verbal bitch slap that he was in for. Vince sure seemed to enjoy being a complete hypocrite. Punk kicked himself to the curb? We were moving into Bret screwed Bret territory here. John noticed the arm holding his championship was swinging wildly. He realized that he was about two seconds away from bashing his boss over the head with it. Best to put it over his shoulder before it was used as a weapon.

And then his mouth completely ran away from him. He was now openly mocking his boss, mainly to get the crowd on his side but also because Punk made it look so fun on Raw the other night. Compared to his tirade earlier in the night it seemed that the crowd had gotten behind him over the course of the night. Apparently anyone who pissed Vince off could get you a new legion of fans. Fans that had decided they wanted to see him take on CM Punk at Money in the Bank as well.

And now Vince was getting personal. What had John done to make Vince think he couldn't handle Punk in the ring? He doubted it was because Vince held Punk's abilities in high esteem. Many years of halfheartedly promoting Punk had made that obvious.

Vince was fighting back with both barrels now. He had realized John was not going to let this go without a fight. If John had a diary, he was convinced that Vince had read it and knew there was something else at work besides competitiveness. Did he think John would just lie down and let Punk walk away with his title? Even thinking the words "lay down for Punk" were not going to help him keep his head in the game.

Okay…mentioning Punk's WrestleMania debut as part of his ring entrance was not going to get him on Punk's good side, should such a location exist. The crowd was getting hot. John didn't think Vince could stick to his guns for much longer in the face of a rebelling WWE Universe…maybe not. He looked down at his belt, tempted to clock Vince with it again. And then his hand, without any input from his brain, handed Vince the title. He was shocked by his own actions. He had no idea what part of this body he was thinking with but it was definitely not his head.

He was having a panic attack while stepping out of the ring and walking down the aisle. What had he just done?

And then Vince told him to stop. Please, God, let him give the belt back. He was having nightmares about having to wrestle senior citizens in TNA right now.

He was got his belt back, his match back on, but at the expense of his job. He had to beat Punk and send him on his way out of the company to keep himself out of the ranks of the unemployed. He doubted any amount of roses was going to endear Punk to him after showing him the door in his own hometown.

After showering and returning to his hotel room John decided it was time to call Punk back. He kept calling but Punk was not answering. He finally sent a text message, "Answer your phone."

A few seconds later he got a response, "I don't talk on the phone to stupid people."

At least John knew that Punk had his phone in hand, he just wouldn't answer his damn calls. "You owe me. Answer your damn phone."

He tried calling again, and this time the call connected.

"If it isn't my knight in shining armor."

"Yes. That's exactly who it is. You should be nicer, you know."

"I think you know me well enough to know that I'm not nice as a rule."

"After tonight I think you should realize that I'm an exception to the rule." John heard a muttering coming from the other end of the line. "Excuse me, could you repeat that."

"I said why should I be nice to someone that doesn't even answer my calls?"

"I told you I would fix this. I wanted to make sure it was damn well fixed before I called."

"What's your angle Cena? Why did you try so hard to get me reinstated? Color me confused."

"You deserve the title shot, no matter what cracked out things come out of your mouth. And while we're on the subject of your lunatic mouth, I didn't think you're exactly the limo type."

"I'm not. Now that I have some borrowed time I can think of a few creative complaints."

"So now you're staying?"

"Not even. I just want to screw with Vince a little more before I leave."

"I have to admit that was pretty fun tonight."

"Fun. Really? Cause it looked like you were about to have a heart attack after you handed him the title and Vince was about to burst an artery. I can't believe I never thought of doing something like that first. Who knew you were such a badass."

"That almost sounded like a compliment."

"Does that sound likely? I need to go and think up some quality insults for when Laurinaitis calls and gives me my job back."

"You mean your brain is actually connected to your mouth?"

"As opposed to yours, yes."

"Don't you have something to say to me?"

"I'm a little tired right now but if you call back tomorrow I can have a whole host of new insults ready for you."

"You want me to call you back tomorrow, really."

"You know that's not what I meant. I'm going now."

"I'm still waiting…"

"For what precisely?"

"You know what I want to hear." And then the muttering started on the other end of the line. "Excuse me I can't quite make out what you're saying."

"Thanks," and then the line cut off.


	4. Chapter 4

July 11, 2011

John hadn't seen or spoken to Punk since their phone call. They were still finishing up the overseas tour and then there hadn't been any house shows scheduled since his return to the states.

But tonight was Monday and Punk should be in the arena. Should be was the key word because no one had seen Punk yet that night. John had checked the locker rooms and the common areas but Punk was nowhere to be found. He had quietly asked some of his friends if they had seen him but no one had. He just hoped they chocked his questions up to his competitive nature. The show was starting in minutes, had something happened since last Monday?

He got his answer when Punk's music hit. He hurried to a set of monitors. "This Fire Burns" was still playing but Punk wasn't coming out onto the ramp. This wouldn't be the first time in the WWE that someone's music had been cued up and no one came out.

And then Punk strolled out…with, oh Jesus Christ, a megaphone…and a smile. Punk actually looked happy to be there opposed to his mood during his last visit to Raw. That wasn't the only thing that had changed. There were noticeably more fans chanting for Punk than there had been two weeks ago. It seemed that Punk asserting his 1st Amendment rights on national television had turned the heads of the WWE Universe.

Punk entered the ring and asked for a mic. Then he motioned for something else and the ring tech handed Punk his headset. Punk was threatening the production techs not to cut his microphone again. What in the hell had happened in a week where Punk went from being suspended to having total freedom to do whatever he wanted.

"What in the hell is going on here?"

"Haven't you heard? CM Punk is the messiah of professional wrestling. His promo is now the stuff of legends," Kofi said standing slightly behind him. "Don't you visit the sites online?"

"No. The internet and I are not pals. I'm not exactly popular with the internet wrestling community."

"That I get but CM Punk is now their heroic poster boy, standing up to the man and all that." Kofi turned around waving at John Morrison and Evan Bourne who had just walked up.

"Great we didn't miss anything," Evan exclaimed.

"I guess you've joined the CM Punk bandwagon?" Kofi asked.

"Are you kidding me? Of course I have. That promo was EPIC!"

"Oh stop fangirl-ing him, he's starting," Morrison said giving Evan a little elbow shove to press his point.

John was a little uncomfortable watching Punk with the other wrestlers. Sometimes the smallest things could lead to a decidedly not for public reaction. And then there were the things that always set him off.

Sitting Indian style is something that should remind you of kindergarten sitting on a rug sipping from a juice box. Punk sitting Indian style always brought out a decidedly non-innocent reaction in John.

As Punk started speaking he still had that grin on his face. You could actually see his teeth. And now his thoughts were taken up with thinking about Punk's smart mouth and what he could do with it. He really needed to find a place with less traffic before he embarrassed himself in front of his co-workers. It would just add one more log to the "John's gone mental" flame that had begun up when he started fighting on Punk's behalf. Del Rio had been shooting him venomous looks since he had arrived tonight, probably with good reason. He had basically gone out and nullified his #1 Contendership.

Punk had obviously not learned his lesson and he was recapping what happened two weeks ago and repeating, in detail, all the things that he said to get him suspended in the first place. Did the production team want to be fired along with Punk for letting this continue? The megaphone was pretty hilarious though.

Oh, so that's what had happened during the past week. Vince had been trying to negotiate with Punk…and John thought that murderous look on the Chairman's face from earlier tonight had been just for him. Obviously Vince read the internet too.

Vince was going to let Punk practically burn the arena down around them just to get his signature, a signature that would probably come with a tight leash and an exclusive starring role on Superstars.

And now Punk's outbursts had a brand name…pipe bomb. And he was dropping them left and right. When he said that one of the only reasons besides himself gets the WWE in mainstream media is when someone dies you could have heard a pin drop backstage. He had reacquainted himself with the point of no return and just skipped on past it. The crowd certainly didn't seem to mind. The volume of the CM Punk chants seemed to have doubled in the last 8 minutes.

Straight from the twisted mind of CM Punk, the live contract negotiation was announced, and somewhere near Vince McMahon a lamp was breaking.

"John, just let us know when you want to go out," said the production tech that walked up to him.

"Go out."

"Yes. CM Punk told us that you would be joining him in the ring."

"Oh, uh, yes that's right. Cue up my music."

John walked to the ring trying to keep a straight face. He was caught between having something that felt suspiciously like the first date jitters and laughing at this whole situation. When he got to ringside Punk was yelling at him with the megaphone which was up against the mic amplifying the sound…something about his music being too loud. The WWE had turned into reality television and no one knew what the hell might happen.

"Hey everybody its John Cena! Thank you. Thank you for getting me reinstated to a job I didn't really want in the first place." John knew that to be an outright lie. He could of just stayed suspended and leave it at that but that was not what he had done because here he was, back in a WWE ring and given the freedom to say whatever he wanted.

"Thank you for giving me everything that I have ever wanted." If he could take that comment out of context it would be lovely.

Punk was practically reassuring him in the ring that when he left with the title John would still have a job. Punk thought he was too important to the WWE to lose.

When it was John's turn to talk he was sort of disappointed. This funny, coy, slightly manic Punk was fun.

John Cena knew he couldn't make jokes; oh he tried and mostly failed spectacularly. What he could do was talk straight. He didn't want to leave anyone in confusion; he was retaining his title come Sunday no matter what pro-CM Punk tirades might have gone on the week before. He also wanted to make clear that he thought what Punk was doing was wrong. Taking the belt and fleeing the state? It was a jackass maneuver.

Okay, he's trying to make an impassioned speech about all the wrestlers he's beaten to get his hands on the title, but that's pretty hard to do when Punk was six inches away smirking, which was pretty adorable he had to admit.

"I think I'm coming to Chicago at Money in the Bank to whip your ass," the patented Cena response to end a conversation.

And then Punk stepped even closer and started whispering so that the mic couldn't pick up the sound "Whip my ass? Really? Didn't know you were that kinky John. I'll have to file that away somewhere for future consideration. So come to Chicago, try to whip my ass, should be fun for all."

And that's when the tone for the Raw General Manager's email pinged through the arena.

His possible last night on Raw so he had to bend to the will of the sociopathic anonymous general manager? If he did get fired at least he wouldn't have to deal with that asinine laptop anymore. He turned around to see Punk backing his way up the ramp, the megaphone going off, "Good Luck."


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: Thank you to my reviewers. This is my first fanfic so any comments or constructive criticism is more than welcome. I've been sticking pretty close to the script so far but that's going to change somewhat. Subtext can be so much more fun than the actual text._

After thoroughly enjoying the dueling promo between him and John he was back to hiding out in the largish storage closet he had discovered. He hadn't really planned on having John in the ring with him tonight, but as he was standing behind the curtain he thought he might as well let John in on the fun. He had proven last week that he could indeed hang with him verbally.

What was a mystery is where his parting words had come from. Had he been flirting with John in the middle of the ring? After thinking about it for a while he could only conclude that he had been. What was even more mystifying was the look John gave him while he was backing down the ramp. It was almost a look of longing.

A few months ago this would have been a promising development. Now, with one foot out the door it could only lead to regret.

He couldn't see any monitor in his hiding place so he was watching the live stream on his laptop. Vince was walking out to the ring in his usual pompous fashion. The live contract negotiation was about to begin. He made his way to the curtain, passing a few guys who were all smiling at him. Strange, that wasn't their usual response.

Punk began walking to the ring, starting off the negotiation by mocking Vince right off the back. Of course he was mocking; this whole thing was a mockery. He pretty much had zero intention of agreeing to anything. This was just one more chance to stick it to the man.

Vince was off his rocker, no, he was not going to shake Vince's hand. He instead settled on popping his gum obnoxiously in Vince's face. Vince must be scared as hell at what he was capable of if he had zero faith in John being able to get the job done. He knew that wrestling John wouldn't be a cakewalk, but he was sure he could get the job done in the end.

Did Vince just call him Phil? Vince had just propped the door wide open for him to say the craziest things he could come up with. Yeah, he had a new contract filled with the most ridiculous things he could ask for. He had no intention of seeing it through. Somehow the crowd had come over to his side even though he was planning to take their title and make a run for it. They should be angry but apparently they just wanted to see him piss McMahon off more than he had already.

Oh this was getting fun. Stone Cold made a career of manhandling the Chairman and now he could too. This was excellent.

Finally he got to the ice cream bars. While the rest he couldn't even care about he was deadly serious about the ice cream.

He wanted an apology for all the hell that Vince had visited upon him in his WWE career, especially his suspension.

The Voice of the Voiceless? That had come out of nowhere, but he liked the sound of it. And he still really wanted his apology. He was not leaving this ring until he got it.

He flipped the table. It wasn't as fun as everyone made it look. He really was above manhandling furniture when all he wanted was to smack McMahon in his moronic mouth.

He got his apology. It was not exactly heartfelt. It was like getting into a scuffle on the playground and being forced to apologize by your parents. You weren't sorry in the slightest but you had to say it all the same.

And now Cena was out here, probably to ruin all his fun. Vince didn't look too happy to see him either.

Great the Rated-PG superstar was back to his old ways and had come to say something that was aggressively vanilla. He could play that game. And then something came out his mouth and it was not what he had planned to say, "watching you go down to CM Punk." Okay, that had come out sounding all kinds of wrong. John seemed to notice that too and it was met with an eye raise and an attempt not to smile. Great, he might as well be spouting off romantic nonsense while John was looking down from his balcony.

He needed to regroup and toughen up. Time to bring out the big guns. Comparing anyone from Boston to the New York Yankees was bound to get an extreme reaction. John looked ready to kill. And then he was knocked upside the head by Cena.

He jumped out of the ring and started backing down the aisle. Cena looked pretty shocked at what he had done too, almost apologetic.

Vince actually looked pissed at Cena for screwing up what had seemed to be a successful contract negotiation. Cena just looked dumbfounded. Punk was pissed the hell off now and he decided that a dress rehearsal for Sunday night was needed…he just walked away.

* * *

><p>Punk was awoken by someone knocking on his hotel room door. He looked at the clock, 2AM. He didn't care who was on the other side of the door, they were going to get a verbal tongue lashing.<p>

He opened the door and John just strolled in like he owned the place.

"What the hell? Here to smack me around a bit more?'

"I am sorry but you can't blame me for that. You can't just call a Boston guy the Yankees. That's like insulting someone's mother."

"I say what I want to whomever I want. Please reacquaint yourself with the door and escort yourself to the other side of it."

"Not yet. I have something else I want to say."

"Then say it and leave." Punk stood there waiting but John did not speak. "Could you get around to your little tirade sometime tonight? I would really like to get some sleep."

John stepped closer and Punk readied himself to respond to John hitting him again. John moved even closer. Punk braced for impact, but he didn't get hit, something else altogether occurred.

Before he could process what was happening John jerked him forward by his biceps and pulled him into his body. John's lips were on his and he found himself very effectively shut up. John was kissing him like his life depended on it. Punk halfheartedly struggled before giving in. His eyes closed and his mouth opened enough for John to slide his tongue in. John tasted minty, like he had just brushed his teeth before busting into his hotel room in the middle of the night. Punk realized he probably had, meaning that John had come to his room with the sole intention of taking part in the activity they found themselves engaged in.

Punk's mouth opened wider and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. This wasn't a kiss about fighting for dominance which was the usual way they dealt with each other. John was kissing him slowly and deeply. John moved his hands behind his neck and John moaned when his tongue finally found its way in to John's mouth. John started backing him up until his legs hit and edge of his bed. He was falling backwards, John's body following him all the way down until they were sprawled across his bed. He felt John's hands moving down his sides, dipping under his t-shirt and brushing over his hip bones. That intimate skin on skin contact was enough to reengage his brain.

He jerked himself out of John's hold and practically sprinted to the other side of the room breathing heavy like he had just run a marathon. John was still sprawled on his bed, his eyes half-lidded and his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Punk had to physically restrain himself from just pouncing on John.

They stared each other down for a while until he got control of his faculties, broke eye contact, and jerked his head to the door.

John got off the bed and walked towards him. He started backing up until he ran into the wall. John was still pursuing him. John didn't grab him again but leaned forward until just his lips were resting behind his ear. John's tongue darted out briefly and then he whispered into his ear, "You taste so sweet."

And just as fast as this had started John was walking out the door. He slid down the wall until his knees were tucked into his chest. He had no idea what had just happened. All he knew was that he had enjoyed it far more than he should have.

He crossed the room and crawled underneath his covers pulling them over his head. He seriously doubted that he was going to be able to sleep tonight, and if he managed to fall asleep all he would be able to see was John.


	6. Chapter 6

_AN: I've been waiting to write this chapter since I started this story. Actually the last paragraph was the first thing I wrote and then built a story around it. Thank you again to my reviewers. Who knew actually writing fanfic could be so fun._

July 16, 2011

John had been trying to reach Punk for the last few days but he was back to not answering his phone calls. He planned to get Punk alone at the house show the day before Money in the Bank but Punk wasn't there.

All during his match with The Miz he kept looking towards the door waiting for Punk to come out and cause some havoc, but he never showed.

July 17, 2011

Money in the Bank was here and he could finally corner Punk. He walked into the dressing room and realized that was not going to happen. Punk was surrounded on all sides by what seemed to be half the roster. Punk's popularity had apparently exploded. There was no way to get to him without making a scene. Punk's eyes wandered over to him and then he quickly looked away. Was Punk blushing?

Punk was surrounded by his fan club during the majority of the pay-per-view. John settled into watching the show himself, but when his eyes moved back to where Punk had been he found his seat empty.

* * *

><p>John began walking towards the curtains. He could hear the crowd shouting for Punk all the way down the hallway. He found Punk standing in front of the curtain. He walked behind him, reading the back of his shirt, "Best in the World."<p>

"We have to talk sometime."

Punk turned to him and motioned to his ear as if he couldn't hear him over the din of the crowd.

"Stop being cute I know you can hear me."

"Cute, huh?"

"We need to talk."

"Talking. Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Sorry, no time, my city awaits."

Punk's music hit. He tried to grab for his elbow but Punk was already through the curtain. He could hear the crowd shouting loud enough to shake the foundations. He knew hometown crowds but this was so far beyond that. Punk's entrance seemed to go on forever.

John's music finally hit and he was being booed out the building before he even stepped through the curtain. He felt like he needed riot gear before he walked out onto the ramp. The sight of the arena coming apart at the seams made him think he was walking towards a guillotine; they were out for his blood. He looked to the side and saw a huge sign, "If Punk Loses We Riot." That was probably true. He wouldn't be surprised to walk out into the parking lot and find his rental overturned and on fire. He was definitely going to need security to walk him out of the building tonight no matter which way the match went.

He looked to the ring and saw Punk sitting Indian style waiting for him with a smirk. This was not the Punk from the hotel room the other night; he was someone else entirely right now. By the time he got to the ring Punk was outside leaning on the barrier surrounded by his bloodthirsty fans.

The crowd finally quieted down slightly for the ring introductions. John's mind had sort of short-circuited. Here Punk was almost all the way naked. Before the night in the hotel room he had always noticed that fact, but tonight was different because not so long ago he had put his hands on him in a completely uncompetitive manner. He had to get his head straight and treat this like any other title defense. What they did in the ring was too dangerous to try to grope someone surreptitiously. You could end up with your neck broken, or in this particular case, his head kicked off his shoulders.

He looked to the other corner and saw Punk mouth at him, "Are you ready?" He merely nodded in response.

30 seconds into the match Punk had his arm locked behind him and he could feel his lips brush across his neck. Not good. Then Punk pushed him against the ropes and mouthed into the crook of his neck, "Are you sure you're ready?"

He could only mouth, "Oh God." Oh God was right; Punk was going to play dirty. He wrapped his arms around Punk's neck for a moment or two until the referee told him to break the hold. Suddenly Punk's leg was flying at his head and he ducked at the last second. They stared each other down across the ring. He needed to get his head in the game.

The "You Can't Wrestle" chant started up. Punk looked away pointed to himself and then pointed at him. They crowd loudly voiced their response. Punk's concentration had broken for a second there. Obviously he wasn't the only person whose head wasn't entirely focused on the task at hand. Punk kept taking opportunities to mock him. He was actually having fun with this.

Instinct took over and they both eventually settled into the match. Then something completely unexpected happened. Punk went for a cross-body from the top rope and botched the move! Punk never botched. It helped him to know that his head wasn't the only fuzzy one in the ring.

He had Punk flat on his back in the ring. He was reluctant to do the Five Knuckle Shuffle to Punk because he didn't think Punk would take kindly to being mocked. He waved his hands in front of his face and when he went for the move he got a foot to the face. Apparently the mocking could only flow in one direction.

He was dazed and Punk pitched him outside the ring again. He heard Punk yell and when he looked up Punk was suicide diving him through the ropes. They both crashed hard into the barrier. Punk recovered before him and threw him back into the ring.

All John could think was that he and Punk had never had this type of chemistry before in the ring. If Vince knew that having some sort of quasi-romantic relationship between two wrestlers could create a match this awesome he would cancel Superstars and replace it with the WWE Love Connection.

He could sense Punk was just as frustrated as him. They were trading off near falls almost every 30 seconds. John got Punk into position for the AA again but Punk twisted out and put him into position for the GTS, and then he botched that too! John took that split-second opportunity to counter him into the STF. Punk had to tap because he wasn't sure he could take much more of this, but Punk countered into the Anaconda Vise.

Somehow he managed to counter into the AA and landed it this time, but Punk kicked out!

What the hell was it going to take to end this?

Well, apparently it wasn't the GTS because Punk botched it, again, and he managed to roll to the outside of the ring. If he had taken the full force of that move he wasn't sure he would have been able to kick out. He heard Punk's feet hit the floor followed by his knees. He felt Punk's face close to his.

"Can't you just stay down," Punk murmured

"How about you stay down," and Punk rolled him back into the ring.

Then it sounded like he was being booed out the building again. He turned his head to see Punk on the outside with McMahon and Laurinitis standing a little ways down the ramp.

Distracted, Punk climbed back into the ring and he caught him with the STF again. He turned his head to see McMahon motioning for the bell and Laurinitis running to ringside. He was about 5 seconds away from becoming Shawn Michaels to Punk's Bret Hart. No way was he going to let it go down like this.

He slid out of the ring and clocked Laurinitis. Then he walked toward McMahon and said, "It's not going to end that way."

And then it ended. He was in place for the GTS before he was barely back in the ring. The next thing he knew Punk was draped over him and he could hear Punk's music blasting through the arena.

He had lost. He had lost it all. His title, his job, and no doubt Punk too.

He rolled out of the ring and limped up the ramp, not able to bear being that near to Punk's celebration. He cleared the curtains and then turned around to watch Punk on the monitors. The camera panned to Vince's face. At least he wasn't the only unhappy person in the building.

Then Vince ran to the announcer's table and ripped the headset off Lawler's head. The music cut off but the crowd was too loud for him to make anything out. He saw the production tech in the gorilla position nod and say something into his headset.

He had no idea what was happening until he saw del Rio run past him with briefcase in hand. He turned to go out to ringside when he caught the monitor again and saw Punk kick the head off of del Rio's shoulders.

Vince was well and truly defeated. Punk left the ring, jumped the barrier, and turned around to blow a kiss at Vince. Then he was gone, making his way out through the crowd.

* * *

><p>John trudged through the backstage of the arena to the locker rooms. He passed by many of his now ex co-workers. No one would meet his eyes and no one said a word to him.<p>

The locker room was empty. He looked to where Punk had been before in the locker room and his stuff was gone. He must have moved it out sometime prior to the match. He sat down on the wooden bench and put his head in his hands.

The door suddenly banged open. It was Laurinitis, with an impressive black eye forming on his face.

"Vince said to make sure you're at Raw tomorrow night," he spit out then slammed the door behind him.

John staggered to the shower and put the water on as hot as it would go. He walked out in a towel and opened his bag. Sitting on top of his clothes was an envelope that looked like it held a greeting card.

Opening the envelope, it was a condolence card for a death in the family. What the hell? He opened the card and written were the words, "No matter how it turns out." Written under that was a Chicago address.

_AN: Okay, I'm going to change the rating on this to M because I'm going to attempt to write a sex scene. I never have before, so unless I have some secret talent for writing smut that I don't know about the update may take a little longer than usual. Wish me luck!_


	7. Chapter 7

_AN: So I got John to the door and he had to wait there for days because the words just wouldn't come. Thanks again to my awesome reviewers._

John returned to his hotel and changed his sweats for jeans and a T. He hailed a cab and gave the address to the driver. By the time he arrived it was midnight.

He walked to the front door of the apartment building and pressed the intercom for Apt. 309.

"John."

"It's me."

"Come on up."

He walked up the stairway and just stood in front of Punk's door. He had no idea what as waiting for him on the other side.

He finally knocked. Punk answered wearing jeans and a "Best in the World" T.

"How many of those do you have?"

"Quite a few. I'm planning on wearing them until the rest of the world comes around to my way of thinking."

"Don't you think you proved that tonight?"

"Are you kidding? I've never botched so much in my life. I screwed up my finishing move twice. I was distracted."

"Distracted by what, might I ask?"

"You know it was you."

"Do I know that? You haven't been exactly available in the past week."

"I wasn't playing hard to get or anything. I just needed to think this through."

"Do you think we could take this conversation out of the doorway?"

"Oh, yeah. Come in."

"Okay, I know you're not going to go broke anytime soon. This place looks like a dorm room, and I'm referring to this futon especially" he said after he took a seat.

"Does it matter what it looks like. I only see it about 3 months out of the year. The bed is awesome though." When Punk realized what he had said he colored and put his face in his palm.

"The bedroom is awesome, is it?" Lifting his eyes to stare into Punk's, and then he could feel his dimples popping.

Punk stared at him steadily for a few moments and then John found himself with a lapful of Punk. Punk's lips were on his and he was being kissed feverishly.

In between kisses John whispered "Shouldn't…we talk…about…this."

"Kiss now. Talk later."

"Yes. Yes. Whatever you say."

The kisses ranged from demure pecks to sweet and slow to downright nasty, their lips meeting with bruising force, their teeth clacking together. John was making sure to taste every bit of his mouth but he needed more. He hooked his hands beneath Punk's knees, pulling his legs apart, Punk's knees pressing onto either side of his hips.

He dragged his lips away from Punk's to the spot behind his ear that he found so tempting that night in the hotel room. He sucked a kiss and then lightly grazed his teeth across the warm skin.

"John," Punk whimpered into his ear, the air movement making his skin tingle.

He placed a series of soft kisses below his jaw, down further to the base of his throat, licking the hollow he found there. He tried to move his lips to Punk's chest but that damn t-shirt was in the way. So far his arms had remained at his side, remembering that the last time he had put his hands on bare skin Punk had bolted.

He brought his hands to the hem of Punk's shirt, slowly lifting the material. Punk sat up holding his arms over his head. Not only was he now allowed, but he was being encouraged to go farther. He ran his hands down the vertebrae of Punk's back, feeling the trembling of Punk's muscles as his hands trailed downward. He fused his mouth back on Punk's, pulling him closer to his body by his hips, trying to get him close as humanly possible. Punk responded by wrapping his legs around his waist.

Then Punk rolled his hips, rubbing their erections together. John's had trouble breathing for a moment and then moaned, stroking his lips over Punk's collarbone, "Phil, Oh God, I need you to touch me, put your hands on me."

"Phil, huh? Let's see if I can get you to say it again," unwrapping his legs from around John's waist. Punk lowered him down onto his back.

"Arms up."

John raised his arms over his head. Punk pulled his shirt up, dragging his lips following the fabric's upward movement. The shirt cleared his head but then it didn't move any farther. His arms were trapped by the shirt over his head.

"Stay just like that."

Punk covered John's body with his and Punk brought his hands up to cradle his head; he nibbled at his lips, running his tongue over them to soothe the bites. Then he was kissing him deeply, their tongues tangling together, tongue ring sliding across the surface. John chased Punk's tongue back into his mouth, trying to catch the ring between his teeth to pull it back into his own mouth, but Punk broke off the kiss.

"No. Come back," John said trying to pull Punk back by the waistband of his jeans.

Punk raked his nails lightly over his sides. Then he was kissing his chest again, his beard stimulating the smooth skin. He reached his navel and then dipped his tongue in his belly button. John arched up at this, his dick rubbing up against Punk's chest. Punk's eyes flicked up to his, and then in a split second Punk's body was rubbing against his, their hips rocking together, creating delicious friction, even between two layers of clothes.

He felt Punk's hand slide between them and stopping at the waistband of his jeans. Punk looked at him with a wicked smile on his lips. He felt the button pop, the zipper being unzipped. Punk sat up pulling his jeans and underwear down his legs. Punk's hand went to his mouth, licking his palm. Punk's hand slid between him and then wrapped around his cock. He moved his hand slowly but kept his grip firm, his palm brushing across the head on every upstroke.

"I need to feel you against me, please."

Punk removed his hand, and John sighed disappointedly even though it was what he had asked for. Punk sat up, wiggling out of his jeans and then Punk covered him with his body. He felt Punk's hand between them. Punk's bare cock was moving against his, wrapping his hand around the both of them, precum creating the most delicious sensation.

Punk started moving his hand faster and slid his body up John's to press his lips against his neck and murmured, "Are you close? I want to see you come, don't want to miss it."

John opened his eyes to stare in Punk's, his back arching, "Oh Phil, hell, fuck yes," he yelled coming over both of their stomachs.

"Oh, John Cena knows naughty words."

Instead of telling Punk to shut up verbally, he decided on a different approach. He struggled out of the t-shirt that had been restricting his movements, sat up, and pushed Punk onto his back. He batted Punk's hand away, and started jerking him. He used a tighter grip than Punk did, leaning some of his body weight on his hand to increase the friction.

Punk's body started trembling and Punk wrapped his arms and legs around him, anchoring their bodies together. Punk tucked his chin into his neck, "Oh god, so close," Punk whispered in his ear, and then he felt Punk's hips jerk and then Punk bit down hard on the tendon leading from his neck to his shoulder.

They both lay still for a moment trying to control their breathing.

Punk sat up quickly, "You're right. This futon is ridiculous. I almost fell off like three times" Punk said while pushing John off his body and moving from beneath him.

"Hey hey hey, you were great where you just were."

"I've had one of the must exhausting matches of my life tonight and then you needed seducing, I'm spent. Wanna see my awesome bed."

"Definitely. Can I get some water first?"

"Yeah, in the kitchen through there."

John opened the fridge door and was shocked by what we found. He took a water out while shaking his head and returned to the living room.

"Is the fridge really the best place to keep that?"

"If I wanna keep my championship belt in the fridge next to the Red Bull and Diet Pepsi's that that's where I'll keep it."

"You know it has my name on it."

"Yeah, thanks. It was a better gift than sending flowers. So, awesome bed."

"Definitely."

John followed Punk into his bedroom. Punk went into the bathroom, getting a wet towel and cleaning their stomachs off. Then they climbed into the bed. Punk immediately attached himself to John's side, throwing an arm and a leg over him.

"If the roster knew what a cuddle monkey you were than your rep as a razor-tongued loner would be destroyed."

"Lucky for me that the only person that knows will not be around said people for much longer. Wait, I shouldn't joke about this. I know you're torn up about being fired. It's basically been your playground for a few years and now it's over so abruptly."

"Of course. They're going to fire you in person. After your public shaming you could come back here, my schedule is wide open and yours is too. We can laze about for a week. That'll be around the time where we are both ready to jump out of our skin from lack of activity."

"What am I going to do? I was joking on Raw the other night, no way am I going to TNA."

"You might like Ring of Honor."

"Okay I might like it but I'm sure the ROA fans wouldn't."

"Tonight you proved that you know more than five moves. If anyone should be worried about tonight's performance it should he me. I botched more in one night that Sin Cara does in a week."

"Enough shop talk, I think I'm going to fall over dead in a second."

"Yeah, my flight out is at 10:30," John said, setting his alarm for 8:00.

"Wake me up before you leave."

In minutes they were both out cold.

* * *

><p>The alarm went off and both men groaned and tried to flip over. Unfortunately some time in the night they had moved into a spooning position. Punk flipped onto his stomach, with John flipping onto his also which put his weight on top of Punk's back.<p>

"Can you get your heavy ass off me?"

"So romantic."

"Don't tell me you're a morning person. We're doomed."

"Are we? Because we've never really established what this is yet. We skipped right past the talking to you pouncing on me, not that I minded in the slightest."

John got up, found his clothes and started dressing. He leaned down to kiss Punk goodbye but Punk rolled away.

"Wait up; I have a gift for you."

"He dug around in a cardboard box in the corner, took something out and threw it at him. It was a "Best in the World" T.

"You can wear it when you get fired on national television. It'll piss McMahon off so much those bulging veins of his will finally burst. Make sure you move out of the way when the blood starts flying. Maybe you should leave the bite mark alone instead of covering it up that would be even more hilarious."

"You seem particularly gleeful that I'm losing my job tonight."

"Why wouldn't I be? Your schedule will be wide open so that you can devote time to me which is as it should be."

"You'll have my full attention after tonight which also includes talking about what's going on here."

"Fine we'll talk; it's one of my many talents after all."

Punk walked him to the door, but instead of opening it, he shoved John against the door, kissing him quite thoroughly.

John broke the kiss and murmured, "I've gotta go."

"See you tomorrow then when we can both celebrate our freedom. You won't miss the job for a while, I have my ways."

"I've gotten a taste of your ways and I can say they are downright brilliant," John said as he walked out the door shutting it behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

**July 18, 2011**

Punk settled in to watch Raw. He laughed in glee when Vince came out to the ring with that moron Laurinaitis. Vince's customary strut was noticeably missing and on top of that he seemed to be impersonating an Easter egg. Vince wasn't able to speak over the "CM Punk" chants. Hah! Take that you sanctimonious jackass. Yeah he walked out, he was damn happy he had done it and apparently the fans had no problem with it either.

Like he cared about any tournament. The lineage of the WWE title stopped somewhere in the vicinity of the Chinese take-out that was in his fridge.

Now he was ragging on his…John…whatever he was. He took his shoe off and threw it at the TV. Luckily, it missed and hit the wall behind it. He loved the look of dread on Vince's face when he mentioned the Rock's WrestleMania match. No doubt Dwayne was ringing McMahon's phone off the hook because his great return match might end up being with someone like Jack Swagger.

He watched the show sporadically but was mainly reading a comic book. He heard McMahon's music and he was telling Mysterio to leave the ring, that his Championship match was postponed. He looked at the clock. Does it really take 20 minutes to fire someone?

Vince stated that he could make a new John Cena. Really? The state of the Championship picture over the last 5 years would argue otherwise. Maybe he should make a YouTube account so he could post a video thanking the audience for embarrassing his ex-boss more than he already had. McMahon could barely be heard over the "CM Punk" chants.

Vince wanted to thank John for his contributions to the WWE when he was getting ready to fire him? This wasn't about McMahon's ego or his need to win constantly? He had a career of being persecuted to argue against that fact. McMahon had never liked him because he came from the indies and nothing pissed McMahon off more than having to promote someone whose stardom didn't originate with the WWE.

John's music hit and, for the most part, the crowd was with him. He almost wished they were an audience of anti-Cena fans so he wouldn't have to be fired in front of his actual fans.

John got to the ring and snatched the mic from Vince's hands. Excellent, he was going to embarrass Vince on the way out!

Punk looked closely at what John was wearing. He had on the standard red Cenation shirt but there was a ring of white showing at the hem, he was wearing his "Best in the World" shirt under it. He paused his DVR and looked at John's neck. Above his collar was a small red semi-circle that he joyfully remembered putting there. God bless HD.

John wasn't exactly tearing Vince a new one, but Punk did appreciate the comparison of John's situation to Shawn Michaels. After Survivor Series in 1997, Shawn was vilified over and over for the part he played in Bret Hart's exit from WWE. He and John had come extremely close to becoming this era's Shawn and Bret. Only John's actions, or sacrifice, had stopped that. But unlike Bret, Punk had taken the situation and twisted it to his advantage.

Punk, himself, practically owed Shawn his WWE career. He would have been shown the door a year into his contract if Shawn hadn't spoken up on his behalf.

John gave him a shout out for the match they had put on the night before. The crowd would have probably have been shocked and shaken to find out that their hero's Cenation shirt had graced his bedroom floor last night.

He could tell that it was killing John, seeing his career slipping though his fingers even though he had done the honorable thing. Did John just threaten to go to TNA? He knew that option wasn't even on the table. John was just doing it to get a rise out of Vince and the audience. His boy was breaking the 4th wall all on his own. Maybe he was a good influence…neh, probably not.

John went to exit the ring, but Vince stopped him so that he could fire him proper. Just as Vince was ready to start his "You're Fired" spiel, Triple H's music hit and he walked out in a business suit. What was going on now? Both John and Vince looked taken aback and completely confused. Hell, he was confused. Vince seemed eager to let Triple H talk running to get him a mic.

Hunter started talking about meetings and the Board of Directors. The Game had been replaced with a suit-wearing corporate officer. No! Don't go talk about this in the back. He wanted to hear this. The current situation? Did they mean him?

He had no confidence in Vince for years. Finally everyone else seems to have caught on, and then Triple H said that they had chosen someone else to run the WWE. He had a bad feeling about this.

Vince was fired! Not all because of him but he had definitely been the main contributing factor. This was beyond excellent. Vince was in tears on national television! Vindication at last! He thought absconding with the title was awesome but this was so much better.

Triple H in charge of the WWE? This was only marginally better than Vince being in control. The only good he could see in this situation was that John wasn't going to be fired. He was a little disappointed that he wouldn't have a partner in unemployment now.

His victory dance around the room was interrupted by his phone ringing. It was John.

"Who am I supposed to have fun with now? Although it makes me feel marginally better than I didn't drag you down with me to the delights of a permanent vacation."

"I'm sure you can keep yourself occupied though I'm afraid to know with what."

"This and that. Any days off on the horizon?"

"No, I'm back on the house show circuit and the schedule is a little tight for a while."

"I guess this talk of ours will have to wait."

"Hopefully not for long. I think I may have developed an addiction to your bed."

"Just the bed?"

"Maybe also to certain people that occupy that bed. Triple H wants to talk to me; I'll call you back when I can."

"Talk to you then," and then he hung up the phone. Now what was he going to do with himself?

**July 21, 2011**

He had decided to go to Comic-Con with some friends in San Diego. He had wanted to go for years but his schedule had always prevented it. He had talked to John every night for the past few days but never for very long. That's why his dating life had been a dead zone for a while. Dating someone on the roster, you're together too much and run the risk of having to meet in the ring. Date someone not in the business and the frantic schedule was too much for them to handle.

He was on the Comic-Con app seeing what panels he might want to go to. That's when he saw it. It started in 3 hours. No way would they give him a mic. He needed to go back to his room and pick something up and then he had to go on a shopping trip.

* * *

><p>He had given his phone to one of his friends, "You need to get this on tape."<p>

"Fine, I'll record your gate crashing for prosperity. I just have one question."

"Huh?"

He pointed in the vicinity of his back pack. "Why was this even in your suitcase?"

"It's on a victory tour."

"Didn't it just go to a Cubs game?"

"Yeah but that was in Chicago, I thought it deserved a change in time zone." The room was coming up on the right. "Ready?"

He lifted up the camera, "Ready."

He strolled into the room with megaphone in hand. There wasn't much of a crowd. It was the Mattel panel not the DC panel. Still, the crowd erupted.

"Hey, I have a question." He started needling Triple H. He pulled the belt out of his backpack, holding it high. He couldn't call it HIS belt because it had John's name on it.

He left the room in chaos.

"You totally owned The Game just now."

"I did didn't I. Can I get my phone back?"

"Hold on a sec I'm sending myself the video."

"Why?"

"This thing is going live on YouTube. Hey, Colt is texting you," and he handed the phone back.

"He wants me to do this thing at AAW on the 23rd. I'm gonna have to split a day early."

"And the CM Punk victory tour marches on."

"Hey."

"So I see you're a YouTube sensation again," John said.

"You can barely work twitter, where did you see it?"

"It was Evan; he's your biggest fangirl. It's circulating around the locker room now."

"Gone but not forgotten."

"I have a couple of days off after the next Raw."

"Chicago is a wonderful vacation spot."

**July 23, 2011**

He was going through a stack of comics that morning when the intercom beeped.

"Hi, it's UPS; I have a delivery for a Phil Brooks."

"That's me, come on up," and he buzzed the delivery man in.

He handed punk a long, flat box, "Watch out it's sort of heavy."

"Thanks," and he closed the door behind him.

He found a pair of scissors and cut the box open. It was filled with packing peanuts. He rifled through them until he felt something metal. He lifted it from the box scattering styrofoam all over his floor.

It was a WWE Championship belt, the nameplate inscribed with "CM Punk."


	9. Chapter 9

Punk opened the envelope. "Call if you want your job back, Hunter." Under that was a phone number. He set the piece of paper on his kitchen table and walked away.

All day he kept walking past the table where he had left the note. He was catching hell trying to decide what to do. He had valid reasons for walking away from the WWE. It's not like things could be much better under Triple H than they were under Vince. It was still the McMahon family.

But now there was another factor to consider…John. They hadn't had that serious conversation that was hanging over their heads. At least he hadn't started it because he wanted to have it in person. John hadn't brought it up either. Did he want to wait until they saw each other face to face or was John reconsidering the whole situation? They had talked every night since that night in Chicago, but never about anything serious. Did John regret him?

* * *

><p>John heard a banging on his hotel room door. He had settled in for a nap after the house show that afternoon. He had been having a series of matches against Alberto del Rio over the last handful of shows. Matches that the entire locker room kept getting involved in. The one this afternoon was especially brutal.<p>

He got out of bed to at least stop the persistent knocking. He opened the door and John Morrison was on the other side.

"Some of the guys are heading out to dinner we wanted to know if…"

And then Morrison stopped talking. His eyes had gotten comically large and his mouth was moving but no sounds were coming out.

"Yeah, I can do dinner; just let me get my wallet."

"You're going to want to change first."

"Huh, why?"

And then he looked down. Stretched across his chest were x-marked fists holding a lightening bolt.

"Yeah, just give me a second," John said quickly taking off what was fast becoming his favorite piece of clothing and putting on something a little less scandalous.

Morrison looked at John's new shirt and nodded, "I'm not even going to ask because I know for damn sure that I don't want to hear the answer, let's go."

* * *

><p>Punk sat at his kitchen table, chin resting on his folded arms, staring at that piece of paper that had been driving him to distraction since it had arrived. He hadn't called John about this because he knew if he heard his voice chances are we would have folded like a table and went back to WWE on the same terms that he left. He took a few deep breaths, picked up the phone, and dialed the number on the card.<p>

"Hello."

"I got your delivery. If I was expecting anything from the WWE it was a funeral wreath."

"What you deserve is a punch in your smart ass mouth," Hunter said. "If you want to continue this conversation you need to get a flight to Stamford. We're going to discuss this like men, not babble over the phone like a couple of teenage girls or have another disastrous live negotiation."

"Fine, I'll let you know when I get in."

**July 24, 2011**

Punk was escorted into Hunter's office. Hunter gestured at him to take a seat. "You don't like me and I have never liked you."

"This negotiation is getting off to a great start."

"We'd like to offer you a new contract with the WWE."

"And my special requests."

"Those we need to discuss, but I have no doubt that you asked for most of them just to make trouble anyway. First off, you try hitting me and I'll separate your head from your body. Then there's the money, jet, collector's cup, promotion, movies, and main eventing at WrestleMania.

"The money, collector's cup, increased promotion and main eventing at WrestleMania, yes. No to the jet, that's just pretentious."

"And the movie?"

"No way in hell."

"The money and increased promotion is fine, but if you can't sell any of your merchandise that's not my problem. And we're not putting your pointy little face on the turnbuckles. The collector's cups were printed a year ago, how do you think The Miz even got on there? He's not exactly setting the world on fire right now. Main eventing at WrestleMania, let's just say that's a valid possibility, but I won't say anymore about that right now."

"Are my microphones going to keep being cut off?"

"Say what you want, I'm personally hoping that someone smacks the taste out of your babbling mouth."

"And the ice cream bars?"

"Did you see my ice cream truck out front?"

"Yes I did. And I have to tell you that the Motörhead blasting from the speakers is probably scaring the kids away. I'm not going to let this go."

"I could care less."

"And I want new theme music."

Hunter passed him a piece of paper, "Write it down."

"Now about the Championship."

"You can keep it."

"Keep it like a memento or do I actually get to keep the Championship?"

"You're the WWE Champion."

"What about the tournament?'

"Let me take care of that. I think we're done here. I'll run it past your lawyers and ours and then you can sign. Will you be around tonight?"

"Yeah."

"It should be done by then. You'll be on Raw tomorrow. No need to show up too early. The surprise factor and all that."

"Fine," and with that he walked out of the office and back into the snare he had so recently freed himself from. He was not known for his optimism so he didn't have high hopes of being on top for very long.

* * *

><p>After returning from dinner he put his "Best in the World" T back on and crawled into bed. Every night it was him that called Punk. They only spoke about random things and never about their possible relationship. John decided that tonight he would let Punk call him. It was foolish to chase someone that didn't want to be caught.<p>

Punk never called.

**July 25, 2011**

Punk arrived at the arena about 30 minutes before Raw was over. He walked to the locker room which was empty. He put on his gear hurriedly and then walked to where the common area was usually located. It looked like the whole roster was surrounding the monitors.

He walked up behind Evan Bourne and nudged him, "What's going on?"

"You're back!"

Everyone turned around at Evan's exclamation. People he had never spoken to in his life, and never planned to, were congratulating him on his return.

"What's going on? Why is everyone up here?"

"It's the second Championship match," Evan said warily.

"Second!"

"Yeah Mysterio beat the Miz to win the title in the first match, then Triple H set up a match for Rey to defend against Cena because of his rematch clause. It's about to start."

Punk's mind was reeling. Is this what Triple H had meant about taking care of things. They already had a new Champion once tonight, and now Mysterio was defending against John? His return was going straight to hell in a hurry. It made him look like the inferior Champion.

Triple H appeared behind him. "You should go to the curtain. You're going to go out there and confront the winner."

"What the hell is going on here? You knowingly set this up so there will be 2 Champions? I knew I shouldn't come back, I should have expected something like this was going to happen."

"Well you signed on the bottom line, now get ready to go out there and do the job we pay you to do."

Punk looked at the monitor with dread. Of course John was going to win, that was just his luck. He was going to be fortunate if John didn't smack him with that newly won Championship belt. This was not how he wanted to tell John about his return to the WWE. He could hear the chants coming from the area, "Let's Go Cena! CM Punk." At least they were going to be happy to see him. He dragged himself to the curtain and waited, hoping that fate would deliver him a Mysterio victory.

Fate did not obey.

Mysterio passed him coming in though the curtain. He looked backwards as if he wanted to run to the ring to warn John of his unwelcome visitor.

"Cult of Personality" started playing over the speakers. John looked completely confused looking around the arena trying to figure out what was going on. Punk hesitated, considering just running in the opposite direction. He felt a shove between his shoulders and looked back at Triple H.

"What in the hell are you waiting for, get out there."

He breathed in deeply and then walked out the curtain. CM Punk was here to make his shocking return.

* * *

><p>He was Champion again. All he wanted was a shower, a bed, and to call Punk. He might also see if he could fit his belt in the small fridge in his hotel room. That's where all the Champions are keeping their belts nowadays. And then the music hit.<p>

He knew no one that used this as their entrance theme. He kept looking around the arena, afraid he was going to get jumped or something. The music kept playing but no one was coming out. He was starting to get a really bad feeling about this.

He was looking away when the crowd came unhinged. He was afraid to look up.

"My God," it was Punk, complete with Championship belt.

Punk was playing up to the crowd and then walking toward the ring. At least Punk was man enough to stab him in the front. It didn't matter though, Punk was back and he couldn't keep himself from smiling. He climbed into the ring.

"Welcome back, it doesn't change the fact that the Champ is here," and he held up his belt to the crowd and was pleased with the arena's reaction.

Punk smirked at him, stripped off his belt and held it up. Apparently Hampton, VA was CM Punk territory. Actually he was pretty sure that the entire WWE Universe had become CM Punk territory. And surprise appearances or not, he was CM Punk territory too, even if the bite mark had faded away.

Punk was still smirking but his tone was apologetic, "So you're not glad to see me, some things happened since the last time we talked," Punk lifted the belt up, showing John the nameplate on the belt, a nameplate that displayed his name, not John's. "It's what the fans wanted and maybe what I wanted too" and then Punk lifted the belt aloft again, the crowd going crazy.

John just shook his head and walked out the ring.

AN: Thanks again for all the lovely reviews.


	10. Chapter 10

John was waiting beyond the curtain for Punk to return from the ring. Punk finally cleared the curtain. He grabbed him by the elbow and started leading him toward the locker room. "I think we need to have a conversation about how much I dislike surprises."

"You can't just drag me into a room a lock the door, they'd call the cops. And all of them…"

"All of who…," John trailed off looking around them. The whole roster was staring at them with slack jawed expressions. John noticed that the only person not in shock was John Morrison who was watching them and shaking his head and trying not to laugh.

John kept leading Punk to the back. They went through the locker room door, "Now what the hell…," but then he was cut off by half the roster coming through the door.

Kofi was in the lead, "Listen guys, you have to leave it in the ring, please calm down."

John just shook his head, defeated for a moment.

Punk went to a locker in the corner and pulled on his shorts, "I'm out of here," he said and then was out the door.

John finally got back to his hotel room and texted Punk for his room number. He found himself ducking around corners and hiding behind a fichus or two trying to get to Punk's room. This sneaking around stuff was already growing old and it had only been for a couple of hours. He knocked quietly on the door. It opened just wide enough for him to enter and then he was being jerked in by the arm.

"Did anyone see you?"

"I don't think so but we're going to get caught eventually. So are you going to explain yourself," he said sitting down on the bed and draping Punk's new title over his lap. "How about starting with where you got this."

"It was in my cereal box."

"I am so not in the mood right now."

"It came in the mail."

"Seriously."

"It did, well UPS brought it. There was a note inside from Triple H offering me my job back. I flew to Stamford, we negotiated the details and then I re-signed which I now realize was stupid. He is so going to regret screwing me around, I guarantee it," Punk started pacing furiously across the hotel room floor.

"Do I need to make you a compilation disc showing you what a bad idea it is to start trouble with The Game?"

"I don't care he totally suckered me in."

"How did he do that?"

"He told me I was the WWE Champion. He just neglected to mention that I was going to be 1 of 3 Champions."

John grabbed his hand and pulled him down next to him sitting on the bed, "You're gonna wear a hole in the carpet or go falling through the floor if you keep pacing like that."

And just like that Punk deflated. He took a deep breath and put his head on John's shoulder. "I couldn't stay away. I think I'm addicted. Mostly to the ring, possibly a little bit to you as well."

"Just a little?"

"Maybe more than a little."

"I'll accept that answer, for now. Just lie back and relax before you have an aneurysm." John dropped to his knees at the bottom of the bed, "Aw, hell."

"What?" Punk said propping himself up on his elbows.

"It's your shin guards. I can never seem to get these off."

"Take off a lot of shin guards do you?"

"On occasion, but right now the only person's shin guards I'm taking off is yours."

"Me too. I mean I'm not currently fondling anyone else's legwear either."

"Is that your backwards way of trying to tell me that you want to be together, exclusively? And do you have to respond to every question with a wisecrack."

"Being quippy is my thing, it takes practice."

"I don't think you need anymore practice your mouth opens and things just come out, sometimes independently of your brain I think," John said finally finished yanking off the shin guards. He started unlacing Punk's boots.

"Not always, sometimes I prepare bullet points."

"I have a feeling that somewhere there's a paper with my name on the top with a list of witty yet insulting comments. Back to the subject you evaded. Do you only want to be with me, a serious relationship?"

"That's exactly what I meant. Me and you against the world, together."

"I have a feeling that for the foreseeable future it's going to be me and you against each other," John said finally pulling off the boots and sliding the socks off.

"We're both professionals and we have our parts to play in the ring. Maybe they'll be a stealth grope here and there. Between the ropes you're The Champ and I'm CM Punk, behind closed doors we're Phil and John."

"Behind closed doors is right since we can't be seen together in public, but I'm pretty sure that I'll prefer the closed door activities more than holding hands in a grocery store. Oh, and our cover is already slightly blown."

"How did this happen!" Punk sat up briefly to pull his shirt over his head and tossed it at John's face.

"I may have inadvertently answered the door in my Best in the World T. John Morrison was struck dumb at the time, and he was cracking up during our little scene in front of the roster." John had pulled off Punk's shorts leaving him in only his trunks.

"Maybe he was just impressed with your good taste in clothing. It could be worse; he's not the gossipy sort. He's got enough heat on him already because of Melina; he's not going to make it worse by outing our clandestine love affair. I'm not going to have to call you my boyfriend am I, cause that is totally ridiculous."

John had Punk's leg bent at the knee and he was nuzzling the skin he found there. He traced his fingers over the back of Punk's knee and then licked the sensitive area. He heard Punk's breath hitch.

"Phil, you can call me whatever you want. In fact, I think I would like to hear you scream it."

He began moving up his inner thigh, leaving soft kisses all the way up to the line of his trunks. He switched to the other leg, giving it the same attention. When he reached his trunks again, he pulled them down his legs and threw them over his shoulder.

He bent his head down, dragging his teeth lightly over one of his hip bones. He traced his tongue over his belly to the other side and bit down on the bone.

"No marks," Punk murmured out unsteadily.

John laid his head down on Punk's belly and looked up at until he sat up a little and they locked eyes.

"Yes, marks. I'll just have to leave them where no one can see, and considering the space I'm limited to I'm not all that disappointed," he returned his mouth to the place he had just left and started sucking forcefully. John lifted his head and surveyed his handiwork. "Now isn't that pretty, every time you look down you'll know that I was there."

"John," Punk begged, reaching his hand down to run his fingers over John's scalp, tracing his lips with his thumb.

"Yes?" John opened his mouth, catching the thumb between his teeth then sucking it into his mouth, twirling his tongue around it.

"Put your mouth on me, please."

John let go of Punk's thumb and then sucked the head of his cock until his mouth. He tongued the slit and lapped up the pre-cum that had collected there. He swirled his tongue, paying special attention to the cleft at the base.

John wrapped his hand around the bottom and slid his mouth down until it met his hand. He lightly dragged his teeth up the vein on the base.

"John, so good, more," Punk heaved out unsteadily.

He began to slowly bob his head but not using suction.

"Are you purposely trying to torture me?"

John smiled around his cock and laughed, the vibrations making Punk jerk his hips up. He moved his hand from around the base and used both hands to pin Punk's hips to the bed. He relaxed his throat, swallowing him all the way down to the base, his chin brushing against Punk's balls, his throat constricting.

"John!" and that's the scream he was looking for. He started bobbing his head faster, sucking hard and using every trick in the book to make Punk come undone.

He felt Punk's fingers trail across his cheek, "John, so close, I'm gonna…" John grabbed the hand on his face, tangling their fingers together and then pinning it to the bed. He swallowed around his cock and then Punk was coming down his throat. He lifted his head and placed a small kiss on Punk's softening cock. He looked up and Punk's head was thrown back breathing heavily as if he had just run a marathon.

"Phil…" and then Punk was flying at him. They collided, the force sending them both toppling off the bed and onto the floor. Punk's mouth was on his, kissing him forcefully, savoring the taste of himself in John's mouth.

His clothes were being torn off and being thrown haphazardly around them room. Without any hesitation Punk's mouth was on his cock and his tongue was swirling around frenetically, sucking aggressively, the ball of his piercing sending electric shocks down his spine.

"Phil, you were so…hot, I'm just…, I can't last." Punk began bobbing his head rapidly. "Phil…" he cried, grabbing handfuls and Punk's hair, forcing his cock further down Punk's throat, coming hard enough that he could barely breathe.

Punk crawled up his body, staring into his eyes. There was a drop of come in the corner of Punk's mouth. John darted his tongue out to catch it and started kissing him deeply. There were both moaning lustily, their combined tastes inciting them to kiss with bruising force.

Punk broke the kiss, laying his head down on John's chest. "That was…," Punk breathed out.

"Phenomenal. Next time I want you to suck me so hard your jaw aches."

"Mmmm," and then Punk nuzzled his face into John's neck.

"Between you and the match, I'm about ready to fall over. How about we fall into the direction of the bed."

"Kay." They crawled under the covers, Punk turned on his side, pulling John behind him.

"Of course you want to be the little spoon."

"I get what I want. If you're going to date me you're going to have to get used to that fact."

"All I'm capable of right now is 'Yes, Phil, yes, whatever you say'."

"Which is as it should be."

"Alarm?"

"Don't bother. I got the front desk to let me check out later. I thought I was in for a night of scolding and would need sleep to recover."

"No worries, John Cena is easy."

"Really, that's excellent news. When we wake up we can decide where we want to go. There isn't a house show until the 29th in Illinois."

"A few days until we return to beating each other silly."

"Just think of it as really aggressive foreplay."

"After which we have to glare at each other across the locker room surrounded by 30 other guys. That doesn't sound very hot."

"I'll find us an out of the way storage closet."

"Storage closet huh? That doesn't measure up to my glamorous John Cena lifestyle."

"You'll be panting for me before I even pin your shoulders for 3. I'll escort you to a secluded place full of cleaning supplies and you'll like it."

John kissed Punk on the back of the neck, "Sleep."

"Mmmm," Punk hummed, pulling John arm closer around his body and locking their fingers together.

_AN: Thank you for all my lovely reviews. It's greatly encouraging for a skittish first time fic writer._


	11. Chapter 11

**July 28, 2011**

"I love Chicago."

"All you've seen of Chicago is my apartment."

"Doesn't change the fact that Chicago is awesome."

"I will reinterpret that comment to 'Phil, you're awesome'."

"Stealing the glory from your beloved city, shocking."

"While I have enjoyed coming my brains out repeatedly over the past couple of days I'm getting antsy. Want to go for a run?"

"Where, around your living room?"

"Your mouth is getting smarter the more time you spend with me, but I was thinking the park."

"Isn't that asking for trouble?"

"With hats, sunglasses, and T-shirts that don't proclaim our identity to the world we should be fine. I don't think the Wrestling Observer has my favorite jogging paths staked out. Worse comes to worse and some fangirls see us together. They'll be tweeting how they may or may not have seen John Cena and CM Punk possibly jogging together. It sounds too unbelievable to be true."

"Fine, but not too long a run. I'm looking forward to accosting you against the door when you're all hot and sweaty before my flight leaves tonight."

"See. Exercise is rewarding."

**July 30, 2010**

Punk seemed to have a lot easier time sneaking around than he did, even in broad daylight in a hallway whose rooms were populated by Raw superstars.

"See the universe is working in our favor."

"Are the past two days what you define as the universe working in our favor," Punk sniffed derisively. "We spent the past two house shows beating each other silly. Both of those matches being interfered in. First by del Rio then by The Miz and R-Truth."

"Yes, but we worked together to get them out of the way. Beating people up together strengthens a relationship."

"What Dear Abby column did you read that in?"

"If Dear Abby answered petitions from love-starved pro wrestlers that is the exact advice she'd give."

"I think your definition of love-starved is slightly off-kilter."

"Okay, I'm just trying to persuade you into a nooner," John said, sitting down on the bed and patting the spot beside him.

"I could be convinced," Punk said sitting in John's lap, pulling off his Cenation shirt. He started kissing John's neck, slightly rolling his hips into John's. He kissed his way to John's mouth, feeding on his lips. John pried Punk's lips open, tangling their tongues together. John felt Punk's piercing sliding across his palate and clicking behind his teeth. He started mentally composing a thank you letter to the person who put that piercing in place.

There was an insistent knocking on the door. John immediately stood up, Punk being pitched to the floor, falling on his ass.

"What the hell!"

"Hide, in the bathroom, now!"

Punk glared up at him before getting up and sullenly walking into the bathroom.

"My shirt!"

Punk just smiled at him sarcastically before closing the door in his face.

He pulled a plain white t-shirt from his suitcase making sure it was covering his groin and answered the door.

It was Kofi, "Some of us are going out for a late lunch, coming with?"

"Yeah, just let me get my wallet, it's in the bathroom."

He opened the bathroom door and was met with a bad-tempered Punk gesturing to his groin.

"Sorry babe, see you on the plane in a few, maybe we could exchange this bathroom for one at 30,000 feet," he whispered.

"Not even if you dragged me by the hair down the aisle."

"So, tonight, your room or mine."

"After this you'll be lucky if I show up. Maybe I'll just take care of this myself…in your bed."

"Now I'm staying."

"No go run off with your goody goody friends," Punk sad turning his back sulkily.

John leaned his head on Punk's shoulder and nibbled his earlobe "See you tonight, babe."

"Stop calling me babe," Punk hissed at his back.

When John got back from eating he found his bed sheets absolutely mangled. His pillows smelled of Punk and there was dried cum on his sheets. He flopped back onto the bed and his eyes traveled to the floor at the foot of the bed. His suitcase was overturned, clothes spilling out everywhere. He noticed a distinct lack of color. He rifled through his clothes, shaking his head but smiling despite himself. All of his Cenation shirts were missing.

Boarding the plane he ended up in line in the aisle behind Punk. He whispered, "Where are all my shirts?"

"Probably on the backs of several hotel maids," Punk turned around then gave him the 'you can't see me' hand motion then slid into the row in front of them. He looked at the luggage bin, row 8 then looked down at his ticket, row 17, this plane ride was going to take forever.

It was 11:30 and there had not been a text or visit from Punk. He figured he was probably still ticked off from earlier in the day. He texted Punk himself and all he got in response was a room number. He took the elevator to the 12th floor and knocked on the door.

Punk opened the door wearing a Cenation shirt but no pants. He couldn't take his eyes of the bare expanse of his legs. Punk pulled him in by his collar and slammed his back into the closed door. Punk raised a leg and wrapped it around his waist. John slid his hand across his knee, up his thigh, and then his hand disappeared under the shirt. His palm met a bare hip bone. Punk wasn't wearing anything but that Cenation shirt.

**August 1, 2011**

Punk was getting ready for Raw in the locker room. He saw John's suitcase in front of a locker down a little ways but its owner was missing. The door swung open and John stepped through trying to bite the tags off of a new Cenation shirt.

"Buying your own merchandise now, that's one way to make yourself the face of this company," he yelled out. John glared at him and walked to his locker. Punk had to stick his head in his locker, pretending to look for something, so no one could see the wide smile on his face. It quickly faded when he thought of what he had planned for tonight. He was going out to that ring and he was going to say every crazy thing he felt until Triple H came out to stop him and then he was going to light him up, with words or fists it didn't really matter.

Punk finished dressing and then walked to the gorilla position. The production tech looked up at him and his expression changed from a smile to one of almost fear.

"Cue up my music."

"But the match…"

"The match is on hold. I'm going out there, cue up the damn music."

He came out holding the belt high. He played to the crowd and then approached the ring. He got into the ring with a smile on his face, he had a microphone in his hand; this was going to be fun.

"The Champ is here!" half the crowd looked like they wanted to throw their chairs at him and the other half was chanting his name. He sat down in the middle of the ring. He wasn't moving from that spot until Triple H got his ass out there.

He couldn't resist taking at least one more shot at the fallen Vince McMahon. He had broken the back of the status quo in the WWE and from here on out everything was going to change. He was the self-acclaimed 'Voice of the Voiceless' now.

He began to mock John and the crowd went off. He had a feeling that he was in store for some type of torture later this evening from John for his little jibes. In his mind he was the only champion. The belt he had dated back to Bruno Sammartino. The other belt floating around started with Mysterio and ended with John and was really only a week old.

Finally, he was interrupted by Triple H's music. "Apparently it's time to play the game."

Triple H pranced out in his business suit. He looked like a moron. Punk really just could not keep the smile off his face.

Smug, overrated, attention-seeking was he? Attention-seeking…possibly, smug…most definitely, but overrated…not even. He was the best in the world after all.

He gave a shout out to some of his fallen comrades that had been screwed by the WWE, Vince McMahon, and in one case in particular, Chris Jericho by Triple H. Triple H may dislike him intensely, but that burning hate Triple H reserved for one person and that was Jericho. He could see Triple H's eye twitch when he said Jericho's name.

He hated to refer to himself as a commodity. It made him sound like he was for sale at the merch table.

This situation with 2 Champions needed to be remedied now! Not when Triple H deigned to hand down a decision in the next 2 hours. And then Triple H's damn music hit. No way! He was nowhere close to done with him. The music stopped and the he had Triple H back in the ring with him. He was going to make that man wish he has just kept walking down that ramp.

When he was back in the ring Punk realized that he could say whatever he wanted to him. He was Mr. COO now; he couldn't lay a hand on him. He could take this as far as he wanted without repercussions. He was the Champion, he had the majority of the WWE Universe on his side, and there really was no reason for him to hold back.

He curtsied to Triple H mocking him with his origins in WWE, when the fans thought he was a weak nobody. Not all the fans were aware of Triple H's past of running riot over his co-workers that dared to infringe on his place in the company. They were going to find out now that their hero was guilty of screwing some of their most revered superstars.

He had no idea he could impersonate Triple H's voice that well and then he took a shot at Stephanie, his wife. The legion of new fans that the WWE had accumulated during the so-called PG-Era had no idea that he had married into the McMahon family. He was going to air every bit of Triple H's dirty laundry in this ring tonight.

Punk was taken aback for a moment, 'skinny, fat ass' what in the hell does that even mean? Was he absent in third grade when they gave the lesson on antonyms?

All he had to say to Triple H's little comments were, "Or What?" He was pushing him as far as he could. He almost wished that Triple H would lay a hand on him because he wanted to hit him right back. Since that didn't look like that was going to happen he settled for pulling his tie out his suit and hitting him in the face with it.

"Pipe Bomb," and then it was his music playing in the arena, not Triple H's. At least the guys in the production truck thought he had won that little exchange.

Punk was in the catering area sitting alone. It was that night in July all over again. People were treating him as if he had some contagious disease that could be contracted by just being near him. Yeah he had went out there and humiliated The Game, damn the consequences. He looked up at the monitor and saw John cutting a promo about Triple H making a decision about the current title situation. If John was going to be out there when Triple H made his decision, so was he. Then they re-showed his confrontation with Triple H from the start of the show. Someone in that production truck was a CM Punk fan.

Triple H was coming into the ring…and then closely followed by that snake Laurinaitis. Not only did he have to deal with Triple H but that sniveling moron too! Triple H looked about as happy to see him as he did.

"Strip the WWE Championship from John Cena?' Had he heard wrong? He thought if anyone was going to be stripped tonight it was probably him. Oh, Laurinaitis was still pissy about John punching him in the face. Laurinaitis must not have gotten the company memo. CM Punk was enemy #1.

He walked to the curtain and stood next to John. John leaned over and whispered, "I think you're going to get beat up in a grimy back alley somewhere tonight. Triple H is probably going to beat you silly with your own Championship belt."

"We're talking about me being in trouble? What is Vince's head ass kisser doing out there trying to convince Triple H to strip you of the title? At this rate, by the end of the night I don't think either of us is going to be Champion anymore."

John's music went off, "That's my cue. See you out there," and then he walked through the curtain. John started going off on Laurinaitis. It was a heartwarming sight to see John acting so sarcastically. Apparently John could do an awesome Laurinaitis impression. Maybe they should ditch their wrestling careers and take their comedy show on the road.

So John's claim was legitimate? That meant that his wasn't. And then Triple H started lying his ass off about the circumstances behind his re-hiring. John looked pretty pissed.

He couldn't stand this one minute longer. He gestured to the production tech and he smartly just cued up his music this time instead of trying to argue with him like he did at the start of the show.

So he and John were going to settle this at Summerslam between the two of them. That was fine with him. They were both professionals.

John left the ring and after a bit Punk followed him. John wasn't waiting for him behind the curtain. He started walking towards the locker room when he was grabbed by the arm and pulled down a dark hallway. John was doing the pulling. He led him into a supply closet and shut the door.

"Found a conveniently out-of-the-way supply closet did you? Punk reached for John but he backed up a step.

"What the hell?"

"Was what Hunter saying out there the truth?"

"Which part?"

"The part about you re-signing. Hunter said that you initiated it."

"Hunter, is it? I called him yes, but only after he sent me the belt with that note!"

John looked at him warily.

"Are you saying you believe that liar out there over me?"

"That's not what I'm saying, but why would he say those things?"

"He's always disliked me; he told me that to my face when he re-signed me!"

Punk was met with silence.

"You know what, fuck you," and Punk turned to walk out of the supply closet. He turned around to look back at John; he looked like he just had his heart ripped out. Punk just shook his head and walked away.

_AN: Thank you to my reviewers you keep me motivated. I know I put our boys in peril, but they won't let me keep that up for long..._


	12. Chapter 12

Punk stormed back into the locker room. Luckily, everyone on the roster seemed to realize that he was not to be approached in his current mood. He took a shower and changed into his street clothes. He walked to the main street and hailed the first cab he saw.

"Airport, please." He was going to get on the first flight out. The next flight out was to Los Angeles, it was a good a place as any to lick his wounds. It's not like he was going on a vacation.

He found his seat and leaned his head against the window. He was miserable. How could John not trust him? Sure they hadn't been together very long, but John knew his past. He never let anyone get too close, and he'd let John get as close as humanly possible to him.

* * *

><p>John stayed in the supply closet for half an hour. What had he done? Why had he even considered taking what Triple H had said at face value? Hadn't he had a million reasons to not trust his words or actions, having had to deal with him as an enemy in the past?<p>

He had to sleep on this. He had to come up with some way to apologize to Punk. There would probably be a bit of getting down on his knees and begging for forgiveness. In such a short time Punk had made himself essential to his happiness. He would head out to Chicago tomorrow and fix this.

John finally arrived in Chicago after a flight that seemed to never end. He paid a cab driver extra to get him to Punk's apartment as fast as possible. He was banging on the door incessantly,  
>"Phil please answer the door. You have to let me make this right. Please!"<p>

The door to the next apartment opened and a teenage girl poked her head out into the hall, "You can keep banging on that door if you want but he's not home and why would you even care Cena?" and then she slammed the door.

John's shoulders slumped, defeated. If Punk hadn't come to Chicago where in the hell was he? He would have to wait until the next house show and do his begging then.

August 4, 2011

Punk had spent the last 3 days in bed. He couldn't believe he was so miserable without John even though the man had stabbed him in the back. He would have to see him at the next house show and no doubt he would be facing him in the ring too. He would avoid him as much as possible and there was no way that John could confront him in the ring…

August 6, 2011

John was getting worried. Punk hadn't show for the house show yesterday. He had asked one of the road agents where he was. They told him that Punk had called in sick yesterday, but they had spoken to him this morning and he would be there today.

The guys started trickling into the locker room. Punk finally arrived. He could see Punk's eyes scan the room and felt Punk's eyes move over him but he immediately looked away and then went to the locker as far from John as he could possibly get. Getting Punk to forgive him was not going to be easy. His only comfort was that we would be meeting Punk in the ring today which was probably as close as Punk would allow him to get in his current state of mind.

It was finally time for their match. Punk joined him where he was waiting behind the curtain. "Phil…"

"Music!" and Punk walked through the curtain without even looking at him.

He made his way to the ring. They immediately locked up, "Phil, please…"

"Shut up and fight," and then Punk kicked him in the ribs. Punk was obviously going to make him pay in the ring.

Their match was much more clinical than they usually put on. Their brilliant chemistry was nowhere to be seen.

He heard the crowd start to boo. R-Truth and Dolph Ziggler were running toward the ring. At least they would be able to work together to take care of these interlopers. Punk immediately hit the GTS on Dolph and then he just walked out the ring, leaving him to deal with a hostile R-Truth and a dazed Dolph Ziggler. Punk had abandoned him in the ring to fend for himself.

August 8, 2011

He had missed the last house show to go to the Nickelodeon Teen Choice Awards so the trouble with Punk was still hanging over his head. A road agent had found him and told him he was scheduled to fight Jack Swagger for the first match of the night and then there would be a contract signing for Summerslam. John both looked forward to and was afraid of the contract signing. He and Punk would have to have the verbal exchange Punk had been avoiding for the past few days. He knew Punk would probably take out the current situation on him in the ring. After dressing he went to the curtain.

"I have a little business I need to go out there and conduct first," he turned around and Triple H was behind him. John just nodded and walked back to the monitors to watch. Triple H was talking about his and Punk's upcoming match. Triple H started talking about how the undisputed champion would be decided and then he said that one person should have the power to make sure that the match was contested properly. John could see that his match with Punk at Summerslam was getting ready to go to hell in a hand basket quickly.

Triple H was going to be officiating the match! Punk must be somewhere spitting nails right now. He had no choice but to go out to the ring with the man that had had a part in destroying his and Punk's relationship.

He forced a smile onto his face and approached Triple H. "Punk and I don't need you in the ring with us. I know how you feel about him; no way will you be calling the match down the middle. And don't think I don't know that you lied last week about Punk's contract negotiation because I do."

"Oh you know about Punk's contract negotiation. How would you get that information, hmm? Just make sure you do your part in the ring and I'll do mine," and then Triple H left the ring. He glared at his back as he walked back up the ramp.

The match started and John knew he was off tonight. Swagger was beating him from corner to corner. He had to get his head into the game. He rushed through his so-called five moves of doom. He just wanted to get out of the ring. After disposing of Swagger he forced a smile on his face and played to the crowd. If he ever needed to hear the support of his fans, now was the time.

He walked past the monitors on the way to the locker room to shower. He caught del Rio talking about a match with Punk tonight. He thought he had drawn the short stick having to fight Swagger tonight, but Punk had apparently drawn the shorter stick. No doubt Triple H was behind this too.

He returned to the monitors just in time to catch Punk's match. It looked like del Rio was intent on breaking Punk's arm. It also looked like Punk was bleeding from the mouth. Punk finally put del Rio away but it was obvious that del Rio had done a number on Punk's arm.

It was finally time for the contract signing. He approached the gorilla position and saw the back of the 'Best in the World' t-shirt. "Phil, please listen to me…"

"You don't get to call me that anymore." Then Punk looked into his eyes and smiled. John knew that smile well. Punk had his diabolical scheming face on. It was a look that said he was about to inflict pain and he was going to enjoy it. John hoped that this would go the way most contract signings did, and he wished he would get put through another table rather than sit through the verbal tongue lashing that was in store for him. "I'm really going to enjoy this, it's a shame you won't." Punk looked into his eyes again and that grin faltered for a moment. Punk quickly averted his eyes, his music hitting, and then he rushed through the curtain.

They were seated on opposite sides of the table with Triple H and Laurinaitis looking on. Punk stretched his legs out and propped his feet up on the table. John's forced grin wavered for a moment when he caught sight of Punk's bare thighs. 9 days ago he had his hands all over those thighs. He ached over the fact that he would never be able to touch Punk in a way that wasn't tinged with violence again.

Punk was immediately on the mic. John couldn't even force his typical grin on his face. He almost prayed for the 'horrible physical calamity' that Punk was talking about. John knew he was not going to be the least bit entertained by what was getting ready to occur. Punk was getting ready to show a clip of…something. Dwayne popped up on screen and he wondered where Punk had gotten this clip. The guys in the production truck must all be wearing their 'Best in the World' t-shirts right now. After the clip Punk called him a phony and that was exactly what he felt like right now. And there were the legs again.

He thought maybe going off on Dwayne instead of Punk might delay the confrontation he was dreading. Then he went off on a self-deprecating rant about all those things that the internet loved to say about them. The smile had been wiped clean off Punk's face. Punk wanted to fight with him, but he was going out of his way to avert that.

He paused for a moment, but he was quiet long enough so Triple H jumped into the conversation, and started lying again about the contract negotiations. This was supposed to be their impartial referee? Triple H disliked Punk so much he was seething with it. The only good thing about this situation was that Punk's ire was no longer aimed at him but at Triple H and John Laurinaitis.

Punk started back on him and it was clear that Punk wasn't just talking about the match anymore. He was trying to make this a personal as he could without tipping off the fans that this exchange was about something entirely unrelated to their match at Summerslam. He was emotionally decimating him right now.

"This Sunday you're walking back into Los Angeles and I want to let you know something, you're walking out with nothing." At that moment John felt like even if he walked out of Los Angeles with the title he would still be walking out with nothing.

Punk put pen to paper and then passed the contract over to him. He looked down. What was written was not Punk's name but 'Fuck you John-boy.'

He was emotionally coming apart at the seams. He didn't recognize the words coming out of his mouth. He just wanted Punk to hurt the way he was hurting him. He went in for the kill and called him a 'One Hit Wonder,' Punk grew pale at that. He twisted the knife hard and wished him good luck.

"John, luck is for losers and I would much rather be a one hit wonder than a phony."

He had to stop this before it got any worse. He stood up and pushed his chair out the way followed by flipping the table over. They moved toward each other until they were standing nose-to-nose.

"You think what you said hurt me. You can't hurt me anymore than you already have," Punk ground out through clinched teeth. Laurinaitis stepped in a pushed them apart. Punk's leg whipped up to kick him but he clocked Laurinaitis instead.

John saw an opening. It looked to the crowd as if he threw the punch at Punk, but it was Triple H who was going to be the recipient from the start. He had ruined the only thing outside the title that meant anything to him.

Punk had vacated the ring but looked back, "Is this the way it's going to be, this plan you've cooked up here. Is the fix in," Punk yelled. He glared at them both, believing that they were in this together against him.

"Punk, it's not what..." but he had already turned his back and walked up the ramp.

"What the hell is really going on here?" Triple H asked quietly.

"Nothing at all thanks to you," he spit out and rushed up the ramp. It didn't matter what Punk thought about him, but he had to know that he wasn't plotting against him with his enemy. When he got back to the locker room Punk and his things were gone.

When he got back to his hotel room he just wanted to collapse. He stripped down for bed. Digging to the bottom of his suitcase he found the Cenation shirt that Punk had worn the last night they were together. It still smelled like him. He lay down and turned on his side and stared out the window. He didn't sleep a wink.

The next morning he wearily gathered his stuff, walking out the door into the hallway. He checked his pockets to make sure he wasn't leaving anything important behind. The door next to his opened and closed.

He looked up, it was Punk, he had been next door all the time.


	13. Chapter 13

**August 14, 2011**

John was clustered around the monitors with the rest of the roster but he was sitting alone staring morosely at the screen. A few guys had come up to him to wish him luck in his match but he had just nodded sullenly. The title belt sat on a chair next to him but he couldn't bring himself to care about it in the slightest.

On the monitor Punk appeared with Laurinaitis who was complaining about being kicked upside the head by Punk during the contract signing the week before. Punk gave one of the most insincere apologies he had ever heard. Really, why would anyone be sorry about roughing him up, the man was a douche.

Laurinaitis walked away and Punk turned around. In his face was Stephanie McMahon. He would usually have wondered what she was doing there but he already knew. The McMahon's were closing ranks around Punk. Stephanie could give Punk lessons in insincerity. The McMahon's could wish Punk good luck all they wanted; they were still going to railroad him tonight. And Stephanie had no business including his name in her little farce. It made him look like he was in the pocket of the McMahon family, where he was definitely not residing. John just sighed, pulled his hat down, and closed his eyes. He would rather be anywhere but where he was.

He heard someone pull up a chair next to his. He didn't bother to turn his head.

"You want to tell what the hell is wrong with you tonight?" He turned toward the voice. It was Randy.

"If I said what was wrong you wouldn't believe me, and then you would probably try to smack some sense into me."

"I'm not going to drag it out of you right now because we both have title matches to worry about, but I'm going to get this out of you eventually, although from the sounds of it I don't think I'm going to like it. Stop looking like someone just ran over your dog. Man up and get your head in the game. I have some ass to go kick into next week, see you later."

It was finally time for his and Punk's match. Walking to the curtain he caught sight of a monitor out of the corner of his eye. It was Triple H and Stephanie talking in a hallway, Triple H in his referee jersey. They weren't just going to make sure that Punk was going to lose the belt, they were going to hurt him, maybe try to take him out of action for the foreseeable future.

Triple H was already waiting by the curtain when he got there.

"You have to call this match down the middle. Vince tried to screw with the rules and you see how that turned out for him."

"I'm going to go out there and do my job you just make sure that you do yours," and then Triple H walked out the curtain. He heard footsteps coming and he turned to see Punk approaching the gorilla position.

"Listen, you need to watch your back tonight."

"Why, you'll be watching it, trying to find the right time to stab the knife in."

"This place is crawling with McMahons and their lackey is creeping around here somewhere too."

"Lackey. Are you referring to yourself?"

"I'm not in on anything with the likes of them."

"Well, I guess I'll know if that's true or not before the nights over won't I?" Punk's music hit and he walked through the curtain.

John waited his turn to go out into the arena. Randy was right. He needed to man up. He walked onto the ramp. He was going to win this match his way, without any help from scheming McMahons.

They both handed over their belts and the match started.

They kept locking up, trading off near falls between them, but neither of them were getting anywhere. They both seemed to be testing Triple H, to see if he would actually count the falls like he was supposed to.

The match started out highly technical but eventually they settled in to the match and some of their old chemistry was back.

It didn't help that Punk seemed to have acquired a new set of submission holds, all which involved Punk wrapping his legs around his body. He could feel the length of Punk's body pressed against his. He took his time breaking the holds.

Punk went for a suplex over the top rope into the ring. He put his hand down for balance on Punk's upper thigh and he actually felt Punk flinch at the contact.

They traded off headlock variations on each other. At one point he rested his whole body weight on Punk and this time he didn't flinch.

Punk dumped him out of the ring onto the floor. He dragged himself up only to see Punk flying at him through the ropes. They tumbled together to the floor. Punk's arm was trapped beneath his neck and their bodies curled into each other. It was like very aggressive cuddling. Neither one of them moved. They were both being counted out.

Instead of the bell ringing he heard feet hit the floor. He was being tossed back into the ring with Punk quickly following. Triple H seemed to have decided to play by his own rules.

He finally saw the opportunity and hit the AA on Punk, but he kicked out. He just sat beside Punk's prone body for a few seconds. They were too evenly matched and he was throwing everything he had at Punk to bring the match to a close. He looked up at Triple H and argued that the pin had been a 3 count but Triple H shook his head. He went off the top rope but Punk moved out the way and hit the GTS. He kicked out and heard Punk posing the same question that he just had. Triple H was counting slow which made no sense. Not that he wanted to have a part in screwing Punk but why would Triple H count slow on his fall?

Punk hit the GTS again and when he went down he draped his leg over the bottom rope and then he heard Triple H's hand hit the canvas 3 times, the bell ring and Punk's music hit. What the hell? He was so worried about Punk getting screwed he hadn't been watching out for himself. This was the WWE after all; a screw job could come out of the blue.

He began arguing with Triple H that his foot had been on the bottom rope. He argued that he hadn't seen it. This was the WWE there were no instant replays. He walked to the back with his head hanging.

Triple H joined him behind the curtain, leaving Punk to celebrate in the ring. He didn't even bother arguing with Triple H again. He would see the replay and see that he had screwed up. He just walked to the locker room.

Passing the roster around the monitor he heard someone yell, "What the fuck!"

He looked at the monitor and saw Punk laying on the mat with Kevin Nash looming over him. Kevin Nash? He was staring shocked at the monitor when Nash jackknifed power bombed him and then escaped through the crowd. Triple H was standing on the ramp looking shocked.

Now he knew why Triple H had ignored his foot on the rope. He had this planned from the very beginning. He heard footsteps running behind him. He turned around and all he saw was a red briefcase rounding the corner.

By the time he reached the curtain del Rio's music was already playing. Punk had been cashed in on and lost. Exactly how many people where involved in this scheme? Triple H was walking around the ring pretending to be shocked, yeah right. He walked back to the monitors and stood there in a state of complete shock with the rest of the roster. He heard footsteps coming toward the monitors; it was Punk, swearing up a blue streak. He followed him back to the locker room and watched him pull his street clothes over his gear and walk out.

The roster started gathering in the parking lot, getting into cars to go to the hotel. When he got to the lobby he saw Punk at reception checking in, still looking pissed enough to start throwing furniture around.

He went upstairs with the majority of the roster since they were all booked onto the same floor. Everyone started congregating in the hallway, continuing to discuss what had just occurred. All of a sudden the group facing the elevators shut up, shaking their heads. Punk stormed past, slid his key into the lock and entered his room slamming the door behind him.

* * *

><p>Punk took a shower, still fuming about what had occurred. He had been expecting to be screwed tonight but after the match was over he had let his guard down. He had definitely not expected Kevin fucking Nash to come out to the ring and power bomb him. This led to him being cashed in on, a point that he really couldn't blame on anyone, hadn't he cashed in twice on wrestlers in the same predicament as him.<p>

He pulled on a pair of boxers and collapsed onto the bed staring at the ceiling. He heard a key card being swiped at his door, the beep going off as it was unlocked. What the fuck!

_AN: Thank you again to all my reviewers. The many positive reviews are very touching and inspire me to keep updating. Thanks again!_


	14. Chapter 14

The door opened and John Cena walked in.

"Out! Out! Out!" Punk screamed pointing at the door but John entered and closed the door behind him.

"No. I just wanted to make sure that you're okay."

"Do I look okay? I just got screwed six ways from Sunday, by Kevin Nash no less. I didn't realize he could still get around without a walker." He pulled a pillow over his face and screamed. He held in there for a couple of seconds then threw it to the side. He gave what John recognized as his resigned sigh.

"How did you even get in here?" Punk murmured softly.

"Took one of my keys, brought it downstairs, said it wasn't working and gave them your room number. Apparently one wrestler is the same as the other to them."

John took a few steps toward the bed, "You have to know that I didn't have anything to do with tonight."

"I know that now. They were talking about your foot being on the rope in the elevator and it's not you who's friends with Kevin Nash."

"I knew they were going to try to screw you, I didn't think they would start running through their contact lists enlisting people to come up through the crowd and beat you up."

Punk tilted his head to the side to look at steadily at John.

John took the last steps to the bed and got on his knees by the side of the bed, resting his chin on the mattress staring Punk in the eyes.

"You have to believe me; I didn't think you were lying. I was just so confused. You know me, I'm a good guy. Sometimes I just take things people say at face value. Maybe I'm too naive."

"No. You, John Cena, are too nice for your own good and I'm just a bastard," Punk said sighing and turning on his side to face the wall.

John got up from his knees and sat on the edge of the bed. He reached his hand out and ran his fingers down Punk's naked back.

"You shouldn't even want to touch me; I've been a complete jackass."

"I knew you had a bad side, I just found myself on it. For future reference, let me know if I'm nearing that area again. I won't lie and say I wasn't hurt by the things you said. I was hurt, devastated really. I don't think I could stand it if you did that again."

"It won't happen again because I'm not letting you anywhere near me. You're too good for me and I'm just an asshole. I deserve everything I get."

"I'm the judge of what you deserve and I think you deserve me."

"Please just stop. With everything that's happened tonight…"

"With everything that's happened tonight, what? You can't say no to me? That works for me actually."

"Please, John, just walk away, please."

"Right now I can't think of anything I would like to do less," and then he turned to his side, pressing his body to Punk's and wrapping an arm around his waist.

Punk reached up with his arm and pulled John closer to his body, lacing their fingers together. John could feel Punk's entire body trembling. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too. Now that I've had you I can't seem to function without you."

"I want to let you go, but when you touch me I just can't."

"Speaking of touching, what did you do, search for the most provocative submission maneuvers on the internet?"

"I thought you liked it when you were between my legs?"

"You're pissed at me and trying to win the match yet you find a few moments to seduce me. And the internet fan girls are going to light up twitter tonight. When you suicide bomb someone it's supposed to look like a killing field, bodies strewn everywhere, I don't think the two guys are supposed to cuddle on the floor, limbs tangled every which way."

"My brain was telling me to keep away from you, but everything else was saying not to let you go and that included suspicious cuddling on the floor. Anyway, there won't be anymore fan girl delighting cuddles on the floor for sometime."

"You're not going after del Rio?"

"Sure, for my rematch clause, but beyond that I have to get to the bottom of this McMahon, Triple H, and Kevin Nash debacle. Maybe if we go to sleep this will all have been a dream. We had two titles between us at the start of Summerslam and now we don't have any. Damn WWE!"

Punk rolled them over and climbed onto John's body. He stripped him of his clothes, leaving him in his boxers. He pushed John's legs open with his knees, settling between them. Punk slid his hands up to cradle is skull and then laid his lips on John's. The kisses were slow and deep, and better than the first time. The first kiss had been hasty and having no idea that it would be accepted. Now he knew that Punk wanted him as much as he wanted Punk.

Punk trailed his kisses down his neck to the place where neck met shoulder. He started sucking creating the most delicious sensation and then he was moving downwards. He grabbed Punk by his hair bringing his mouth back to that spot.

"Keep going."

"But the marks…"

"I want them. I want to look in the mirror tomorrow and know that you were there."

Punk smiled then lowered his head back to the spot alternating sucking with bites. He finally lifted his head and looked at his handiwork.

"I like the idea that every time I look at that I'll know you're mine, just so you know, you don't have to mark me to know that I'm yours. Because I am, yours."

Punk slid down his body, pulling the waistband of his boxers low enough to reveal the v-cut of his abdominals. He started sucking hard around his hip bone, scraping his teeth down the bone. I sat up slightly and rubbed his thumb around the hickey on his neck. "This one everyone can see, but this one," Punk slid back down his body placing his mouth on the place he had been sucking and looked up to stare in John's eyes, "this one is only for me and you."

Punk returned to the mark for a few moments, then sat up pulling John's boxers off.

"Phil, please, I need…" John moaned.

"I know. I need it to," Punk whispered, pulling off his boxers and sliding his body back between John's legs, their skin touching all over. Punk began to roll his hips into John, their erections rubbing together, the precum creating the most amazing slide.

John wrapped his arms and legs around Punk, clinching in with his fingernails around Punk's shoulder blades. "Harder, I need more; I need to feel it tomorrow."

Punk began to move his hips frenetically, their hipbones rubbing together to the point where pleasure and pain meet.

"Phil, I'm close…I need you…come with me."

"I'm right there," and then Punk leaned to kiss John fervently, no finesse, just raw need. John's back arched, and he was coming between them. Punk's hips snapped forward a few more times and John could feel a warm gush of liquid on his stomach. John kept Punk locked in with his arms and legs.

"John, I need to get up before we get stuck together."

"I don't want you to leave."

"I'm not going to leave, I promise. Just going to the bathroom."

Punk came back with a warm towel and wiped them both off, throwing the towel to the floor. He lay back, putting John's arm behind his neck and resting his head on John's chest.

"Why can't we just stay this way, just you and me?" John mumbled.

"Because we would go crazy after a week, we love the job too much."

"I don't exactly love it right now. Del Rio is swanning about with our title and Triple H has made it his duty to wreck your life."

"Let's not think about those two losers right now. It's just you and me here. Tomorrow we'll be John Cena and CM Punk. Let's just be Phil and John for a couple hours more."

"That sounds perfect."

"Sleep now, plot later," and Punk was asleep in minutes.

John was awake for a few minutes more reflecting that at this moment he felt more like himself than he had in a week, but tomorrow he would have to go on Raw and deal with the wreck the brand had become after Summerslam.

**August 15, 2011**

They both awoke to John's phone ringing. John searched for his pants on the floor, pulling out his cell phone and answering it.

"Hey. I'm in room 1814, give me 10 minutes."

"Who did you just give my room number to?"

"Randy."


	15. Chapter 15

"Randy! There better be some other Randy that you know that is not Randy Orton."

"Of course it's Randy Orton, he's my best friend."

"And hates my guts."

"Listen, we have to sneak around because of our job, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to hide this from my closest friend."

Both men hurriedly pulled on clothes. Punk pulled the comforter over the bed.

"What, are you a maid now?"

"This is going to be a mess, probably best not to scandalize Orton."

"Randy Orton cannot be scandalized."

There was a knock on the door. Punk sat on the side of the bed head in his hands. John opened the door.

"Hey. We didn't finish our conversation from last…What the fuck! Please tell me I'm not seeing what I think I'm seeing. Please tell me you're suffering from some sort of head injury."

Punk spoke up, "No. You're the one suffering from a head injury, best turn around and leave and pretend this never happened."

"I may actually be brain damaged after this. Wait, last night you were so upset, what did this asshole do to you!"

"Actually Randy, it was mainly about something I did to him."

"Whatever it was I'm sure he deserved it."

John walked over to the bed, sitting beside Punk and lacing their hands together.

"Oh. My. God. I think my corneas are burning."

"Randy, sit. I'll explain," John said pointing at a chair.

"There aren't enough explanations in the world to account for this," Randy said, collapsing into the chair and rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to erase what he'd seen.

"Punk and I are together. We've been together for a couple weeks, essentially."

"Essentially?"

"Well, I said, well no I didn't say; let's say I implied something very insulting."

"I don't care if you insulted his mother. I've seen the last 2 episodes of Raw, the things he said to you and the look on your face…"

"We've settled that between us. We're together. I need you to accept this, as my friend."

"Fine, I'll accept it but you hurt him just once and I'll tear that piercing out your lip," Randy said pointing his finger at Punk.

"If I ever behave that way again you have my permission though I think I'll let John take the first shot. You're only one we've told about this. You can't say anything."

"Who would believe me? It's the most insane thing I've ever heard."

"John Morrison pretty much knows too, but we haven't talked to him about it, he's just doing a lot of laughing and eye rolling," Punk said.

"Well, there may be one more person…" John started.

"Who else? Who else, John?"

"Triple H."

"Jesus Christ," and then Punk collapsed on the bed.

"Boy are you two screwed. You'll be fighting each other with flaming, barb wire covered baseball bats soon enough," Randy forced out between laughter.

"Punk, he doesn't know for sure we're together. He just knows I have information that I couldn't have gotten from any other source but you. I also might have threatened him a couple of times."

"Threatening The Game, John. It must be love," Randy said with an eye roll and then looked at Punk and John, both the color of fire engines, "oh, not that far along yet, sorry, my bad. Okay, I'm going to accept this because you're my best friend and he's your, however questionable, choice. Now, I'm going to walk out that door and pretend this conversation never happened. Later John…Punk," and with that he was out the door.

"See, was that conversation that bad? He didn't hit you, only threatened you once, and called you by your name and not an insult just now."

"Anyone else you want to out us to?"

"No, but if you want to tell your friends that's okay by me."

"I don't exactly have a lot of those. I'll tell Colt but he won't be that surprised."

"Why not?"

"We've been friends for a while. He knows my personality. He'll just take it in stride like he does with all the strange things I do."

"You do know that calling someone strange is slang for picking up someone questionable for random sex?"

"Is it? I guess you're my bit of strange then."

"Feeling sorry for my best friend, you're so sweet."

"I'm not sweet. I'm just saying I feel bad for the guy because he probably had to go back to his room and wash his eyes out with soap."

"Our flight is in a few. Want to conserve water?"

"Never let it be said that CM Punk isn't an environmentalist."

* * *

><p>"Oh look, it's time to play the lying game! I can't wait to hear this crap," Punk whispered to John as Triple H was walking out. "Quick, look angry so it looks like we're commiserating about both being screwed by Triple H. John, you don't look angry in the slightest. Try."<p>

"But I'm happy right now; I'm not even going to try to pretend otherwise."

"That's it. You and your smiling face are hereby ejected from my cunning plots. You're useless as a schemer, you know."

"How about you kiss me and then I'll try really hard to be cunning and ruthless."

"You're hopeless. I'm going over there where those of us with questionable ethics sit."

10 minutes later Punk was back by his side, "you get an apology and all I get is lies. And now he's kissing del Rio's ass? They were in on it together along with the rest of the McMahon's. I hope Mysterio beats his ass into next week."

"Current events point to that being unlikely."

"Kevin Nash is going to get it both verbally and physically tonight. That is if he didn't pull something stepping over the barrier last night."

"I have no doubt that's going to be the case. Your tongue is pretty lethal."

"Ooh, want to go somewhere secluded and test that theory? The Miz looks like he's going to be blabbing in the ring for a while, let's go."

They found a semi-dark hallway and started making out like teenagers for a few minutes. They heard footsteps coming toward them and immediately broke apart. R-Truth passed the hallway as if he was going to walk on by them. At the last second he turned his head and stared at them

"It's a freaking conspiracy," he shook his head and walked away.

Punk and John both started laughing so hard they were clutching each other and wiping tears away.

"We should probably get back to the monitors…separately," Punk said.

"Fine. I wouldn't want to miss my insincere apology and your decimation of Kevin Nash."

When John walked back into the monitor area Punk was seated on the far side of the room and his face was bright red.

John leaned over to ask Kofi, "What did I miss?"

"Kevin Nash's car just pulled up. I think Punk is getting ready to pop an artery. Oh look they're announcing him."

Punk jumped up and left the room, he looked ready to kill.

Kofi leaned back over, "I wouldn't want to be that guy right now."

"Speaking from experience, no, I would definitely not want to be the recipient of Punk's wrath," John said sitting down to watch the confrontation.

"Did he just say stick the winner for me? I know what Punk did but what did you do to piss off Triple H?"

"Not a clue," John lied. He had a pretty good idea what he had done to anger Triple H. His little posse would have a hard time screwing CM Punk if John Cena was standing with him. At least Nash owned up to the fact that Triple H had asked him to lay out Punk, or him, or whoever won that match.

Punk's music hit, he felt sorry for Kevin Nash, wait, strike that, he didn't feel sorry in the slightest. The crowd didn't seem to feel sorry for Kevin Nash either.

Nash was like a dog chasing a car, no way could be keep pace with Punk.

Punk walked down the ramp to do more than slaughter him on the mic. And that's when the security guards came out, preventing him from getting to the ring. Triple H at work again.

Punk's music hit and walked back up the ramp. He didn't pass by the bank of monitors. He was off somewhere trying to hunt down Triple H so he could get a taste of Punk's anger too.

"He totally owned him!" Evan screamed out. The guys around the monitors actually started applauding.

Then Nash appeared on the screen again, walking off with who else, John Laurinaitis. He hoped Punk wasn't looking at a screen right now or he would start throwing things.

Later Punk appeared on the screen walking into Triple H's office only to find Stephanie there. At least she wasn't trying to lie like the rest. She sounded as if she believed that Punk got everything he deserved and she was ecstatic about it. Punk never came back to the monitor bank.

John watched the show with the rest of the roster and then he had the urge to start throwing things. Mysterio had lost to del Rio, but del Rio seemed intent on breaking Rey's arm. Hell, he wanted to get a piece of del Rio, what better time than now. He ran to the curtain, down the ramp, and into the ring. He got in a few shots on del Rio before the coward fled the ring as fast as he could.

He grabbed a mic and decided he could do a little owning tonight as well as Punk. He knew that he probably shouldn't be so complimentary towards Punk, but he couldn't help himself. He had del Rio running scared, exactly like he expected the coward to do.

* * *

><p>"Where do you want to go? Tampa is all the way across the country and Chicago isn't exactly close either. We have to leave for Canada in a few days" John asked.<p>

"Hold up in San Diego for a few days until we leave for Canada. It'll be our next stop on the confined spaces tour we started in Chicago."

"I have fond memories of Chicago. If we stay in San Diego do you promise to let me do naughty things to you?"

"The naughtiest."

_AN: I left this story one paragraph from completion to go watch Raw last night. The first 15 minutes were hilarious, I could have watched that all night. I was tempted to erase my chapter and write 'Blah, blah, blah, a bunch of stuff happened. Oh look it's October 10th'. Thank you to my reviewers, it makes me want to update as quickly as possible knowing there are people are there actually reading my fic._


	16. Chapter 16

**August 17, 2011**

John woke up from his nap to the most delicious sensation, "Oh. My. Fucking. God."

He looked down to see Punk's head in his lap, bobbing up and down slowly, his tongue ring circling the head of his cock. John grabbed two handfuls of Punk's hair, rolled his hips, and forced Punk's head a little further down. Punk put his hands on his hips, pinning them down onto the bed.

Punk lowered his head more and swallowed until John's cock hit the back of Punk's throat. Punk was deep-throating him. Another addition to the long list of skills Punk possessed.

"Phil, please, harder, suck me harder."

Phil started sucking with more force, caressing his hip bones, and then his right hand was moving down stroking the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. Punk's hand went to his balls, rolling them in his hand.

"Phil, Phil, oh Phil…" John urged rather loudly.

Phil's hand moved down to stroke the skin behind his balls.

"Phil!"

John's body seized up, coming down Punk's throat.

Punk moved up his body, smashing his lips to John's. John immediately pushed his tongue in Punk's mouth savoring the taste of him in Punk's mouth.

"Screw alarm clocks when I have you."

"What can I say; it's just a little afternoon delight."

"Did you just quote Starland Vocal Band at me? You worry about us getting out and ruining your image, you should worry more about your musical knowledge."

John rolled Punk's body underneath his and stripped off his boxers. Then he got up, leaving the bed to dig through his suitcase.

"Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey! What the hell? Get your ass back here."

"Give me a second."

"I'm giving you 0 seconds. Are you packing down there or something? Fuck this I'll take care of it myself."

John's head popped up immediately. Punk had already moved his hand down to his hard cock, stroking slowly, cupping his palm over the head on the upstrokes.

"Oh Fuck Me, that's hot…"

Punk started stroking faster. "Oh, John..."

John crawled back on the bed between Punk's legs and just watched Punk get himself off for a minute. Then his hand joined Punk's for a few strokes, watching Punk's cock slide through their joined hands until he lifted both their hands off.

"Johhhn…"

He slid his hands up Punk's thighs, his thumbs dipping into crease where his pelvis met his thigh. He started massaging the area, and then gripping Punk's thighs he spread his legs even wider.

John dipped his head and started sucking Punk's cock with firm, deep strokes. One hand wandered down to cup his balls, the other rubbing the skin behind his balls. John kept this pace for a few minutes, and then removed his mouth and hands.

"Hey, mouth and hands back where they were!"

John fumbled for something with his hands and one hand returned dipping lower and circling Punk's hole with a slick finger. He could hear Punk's breath hitch. He slowly slid one finger inside, moving it in and out slowly so Punk could get used to the stretch. He looked up at Punk, his head was thrown back and he was breathing harshly. John couldn't stop watching Punk coming undone.

"Please give me more."

John slid another finger inside and started a scissoring motion. When Punk was stretched enough he crooked his fingers beginning to pump them faster. He knew he had found the right spot when Punk screamed his name loud enough to disturb the people next door.

He immediately sucked Punk's cock into his mouth all the way to the base. He began sucking fiercely while trying to hit that spot inside Punk again and again.

Punk reached his hands down and dug his nails into John's shoulders. "John, oh fuck me, John!"

He came in hot spurts down John's throat. He removed his fingers and Punk responded with a whine.

He looked up at Punk. He was absolutely wrecked. His hair was wet and sticking up everywhere, there was a fine sheen of sweat on his face and chest.

He unclenched Punk's fingers from his shoulders; there was blood underneath his nails.

He moved up Punk's body, staring him in the face until Punk's eyes opened. Punk leaned up and kissed John almost chastely. He nuzzled his neck and placed his lips behind his ear and whispered against his skin something that he couldn't make out.

**August 18, 2011**

"Oh, I don't want to go," Punk said sleepily.

"Back to work now. Our little slumber party is over."

"What's the travel look like."

"It's a straight shot from San Diego to Regina."

"It's probably a good idea we stayed in San Diego or we'd both be connecting like crazy to get to Canada. When are our flights?"

"At 11, same airline, same flight, we have seats next to each other."

"What! Are we trying to get our relationship splashed all over the internet?"

"It's a flight from San Diego to Canada, how many people are actually going to be on that flight. We'll just go a little incognito."

"You better be right about this or my image is going to take a severe hit, jet setting with John Cena at my side."

"We better get packed and to the airport."

After they checked in and got through security they moved to the VIP lounge to wait for boarding. They were sitting at a table by the windows. John was facing the entrance when a strange look washed over his face.

"You're going to kill me right where I stand. At least they'll be a lounge full of witnesses."

"What?" Punk turned around and immediately sunk down into his seat and pulled his cap down over his face. "I told you this was a horrible idea."

The person in question waved at John and made his way to the table. "Hey John, mind if I sit?"

"Sure Rey, have a seat."

Punk attracted Rey's attention when he whispered harshly, "John, could you be anymore of an idiot?"

Rey turned to the other man seated at the table and was dumbfounded, "Hey…Punk."

Punk just waved his hand in the air in some sort of gesture that resembled a wave.

"Well this is strange and awkward," Rey said, confusion lacing his words.

"Isn't it just? Thanks again John."

John responded by reaching across the table and laying his hand over Punk's, rubbing his thumb across Punk's palm in what was meant to be a calming motion. It made Punk even less calm than before.

"So it's like that huh? I'm sure I'm supposed to be surprised or something but I'm really not."

"Huh?" Punk blurted out.

"Well, you two have always seemed a little eager to get your hands on each other. You got him reinstated and his Championship match back on, that's not exactly the way these things go down."

"What can I say I was smitten," John said with a wide smile, dimples in full force.

"This is so not my life," Punk complained.

"No worries, I'm not going to tell, and when would I get the opportunity. I'm on my way to have surgery. I'll be on a morphine drip and then months of rehab back home."

"Thanks Rey, you're awesome," John said and then started at Punk.

"Punk."

"What?"

"Don't you have something to say?"

"No."

"Punk!"

"Fine, fine. Thank you Rey."

"No problem boys. See you guys, hopefully sooner rather than later," and Rey was gone.

".God." Punk said accentuating each word while banging his head against the table.

"So a handful of people know about us, they're all trustworthy types..."

"Orton is trustworthy? I wouldn't want him to hear you saying that."

"He's my closest friend so there are no worries there."

"And Triple H?"

"He knows something is going on he just doesn't know what."

"Oh look, our flight's boarding. Let's get on the plane before anything else happens. At least we're in first class cutting us off from the rest of the plane."

"Aww, and here I was hoping for a little nookie at 30,000 feet."

"Call it that again and you'll be getting mighty familiar with your hand."

**August 20, 2011**

"You're my hero," John said nuzzling his face into Punk's neck in the backseat of the cab.

"Alberto del Rio and his creepy ring announcer were in the ring, I had a perfectly valid excuse, extreme hate, to be in that ring."

"They were going to double team me, they had chairs, and then you came out and defended my honor."

"Keep talking like that and you are so cut off."

"So cut me off. You can just lay back and I'll do all the work."

_AN: So yeah, another update. I'm sure you guys are getting sick of me and wondering 'where does she find the time' I write porn while on the clock. I'm the worst employee EVER!_


	17. Chapter 17

**August 22, 2011**

"Another Monday, another Raw," Punk said wearily to John as they sat around the monitors. "We really need to do something about that tool del Rio."

"Well, there's my rematch clause."

"Excuse me, there's also my rematch clause."

"Maybe they'll make it a fatal three-way so we can both beat him silly and then settle it between us. That'll be fun, it'll be like a date, and we've never been on one of those."

"A date. I've never been on one that includes violence."

"Wanna go out there, raise a little hell?"

"Definitely. Go out first, I'll see you out there," Punk surveyed the area around the curtain. This early in the show there was only person in the gorilla position and he was busy directing traffic. Punk leaned up and kissed John quickly on the lips.

"One more" and Punk obliged him.

"And get that sappy grin off your face; you're going out there to humiliate him not have a tea party. Have fun." And John went onto the ramp.

Punk looked at the small monitor by the curtain, and John still had that grin on his face. Punk just shook his head.

John had finally wiped that smile off his face. He was making fun del Rio's fictional pretentious lifestyle. John was getting snarkier every day, he was so proud.

"There is only one man in this company that can go toe-to-toe with me…You know what, after the once over you are definitely not CM Punk."

He better get out there before John started quoting sonnets or something. After getting in the ring he and John started bantering back and forth. Sure he put in some mild insults here and there but it didn't have the nastiness that had been present in their last arguments in the ring. They were having fun out there with each other. Everyone watching would be chocking this up to their brilliant chemistry, not knowing that their favorite superstars were engaging in a clandestine love affair.

And then del Rio rudely interrupted them just when the back and forth was picking up speed. Oops, he had forgotten del Rio was even in the ring.

Alberto began to speak but Punk pretty much ignored him. He was just some stooge that the McMahon's had enlisted to screw him out of the title.

Both he and John asserted that they both deserved a rematch. But del Rio had decided that he was not going to be defending his title against them or anyone else tonight. It seemed that he thought he only had to defend his title when it was preferred by him. John was right, besides being a moron, del Rio had zero integrity.

This conversation was getting nowhere quick, and then Triple H's music hit. Oh great, he was going to end up in a handicap match with one arm tied around his back. Of course, only del Rio seemed happy to see the COO.

Triple H was going to make del Rio wrestle tonight. He may be a liar but he recognized the integrity of the Championship which should be defended as much as possible, not just when del Rio deemed it so.

At least Triple H knew that he couldn't personally, in front of the WWE Universe, screw him out of his rematch. Sure, he could send text messages and plot his little plots behind the scenes all he wanted, but in the ring in front of the fans he had to give the appearance of fairness. He scheduled him and John to face each other tonight to decide to #1 contender.

"I'm fine with that," John said low enough so only Punk could hear.

"So, John-boy, looks like I'll be defeating you for the third time tonight."

"You wish."

"You can't just flash those dimples at me and think I'll roll over for you, maybe I'll do that later in the hotel room but definitely not in the ring."

"So, supply closet?"

"Meet you there."

Punk joined John in the aforementioned supply closet. John picked him up by his thighs and lifted him on to the top of a very convenient table. Punk wrapped his legs around John's waist and pulled John's head down to his and started kissing him fiercely, all teeth and tongue.

John pulled his mouth away and Punk just moved down to his neck. "Not that I'm not enjoying this but you're not usually this frisky especially when you have to deal with Triple H."

"No, it was you talking smack to me in the ring. It got me so hot I wanted to jump you right then and there."

"After this match you realize that we won't be facing each other again for a while. One of us will be chasing del Rio and the other, who knows."

"That's why we have to have all the fun we can in the ring tonight. It'll make for awesome foreplay."

"One of us is going to lose."

"That's why we'll agree that no matter what if the opportunity to win presents itself we take it, and that's the end of it. Also, loser gets a blow job and the winner gets himself off."

"Hey, I might have to throw the match then because I still can't get the thought of you getting yourself off out of my mind, I'd kill for a repeat performance of that."

"I'll file that away for future reference, now before we have to go out there and beat the hell out of each other, kiss me."

They both returned to the monitor bank slightly disheveled. "You should probably slick your hair back again it looks like it's been in a tornado."

Punk blushed and immediately ran his fingers through it. "Better."

"I guess so but I preferred it the other way."

Punk looked up, "Since it was your hands that did that I'm not surprised." He looked back at the monitor, "why in the world would Swagger want to get on Vicky's good side?"

"Vicky has a good side? That's news to me."

"Very true, oh look, Triple H is back out to the ring again. Probably so he can have milk and cookies with his best buddy. And here's his accident prone monkey. Oh, look, they're hugging, how sweet. That's it, I'm not going to sit here any longer and listen to this convoluted game of Clue," Punk jumped up and headed to the ramp.

Punk got into the ring and immediately started insulting everyone and a few people who weren't there, like Stephanie McMahon. John was not looking forward to the day when Triple H finally cracked, but Punk seemed to be. And then Nash's fist went flying at Punk's jaw and he fell to the ground. Then Triple H and Nash walked to the back together, leaving Punk alone in the ring.

John turned in his seat, staring down Triple H and Nash as they passed him, probably on the way to Triple H's office to celebrate another half-assed scheme. Triple H looked in John's direction, John glaring steadily at both him and Nash. Triple H just smirked and kept walking.

Punk returned to his seat. I'm never going to scheme again."

"That seems doubtful."

"Seriously. Being on the other end of this sucks. I have no idea who I want to rough up more; they're all equally pissing me the hell off. Oh wait, what's this? Kevin Nash was in a car accident, couldn't of happened to a nicer guy. Look, Triple H is leaving to see his damsel I distress, how touching. At least we know that we won't have to put up with any interference from that camp during our match tonight."

Soon it was time for their match. Almost to the curtain they heard del Rio's music start.

"What the hell?" they both said at the same time.

They rushed to the curtain and John got the production tech's attention. "What is he doing out there?"

"Commentary," the tech said cringing while looking over John's shoulder. He turned around and Punk was giving a menacing glare to the tech.

"Good lord, he doesn't decide who gets to go out there. Chill, you of all people should be familiar with going out to the ring whenever you please."

"That moron on commentary. The poor people at home are gonna have to hear about his golden destiny for the next half hour. We should watch our backs. Just because Triple H isn't here doesn't mean his lackeys aren't wandering around."

"Uh, look at the monitor, to the left of Cole…"

"Laurinaitis too! Jesus we'll be lucky to get 5 minutes in the ring before we're avoiding interference."

"See you out there" and Punk left, his hand brushing John's briefly.

John got into the ring and threw his shirt into the crowd as usual and then it came flying back into the ring. He looked at Punk and his eyes were wide and it looked like he wanted to laugh. He threw the shirt back into the audience and it came right back. Punk was cracking up.

"What? They didn't throw my shirt back."

Punk realized a few minutes in that John was paying him back for that comment; he was exceptionally handsy in the ring. He was going to try to win the match by sexually frustrating him.

John went for the five knuckle shuffle and Punk pulled him down to the mat and rolled him up, putting his lips on John's neck he whispered, "Your ass is so mine tonight if you keep this up."

John just laughed.

Punk got the best of him after hitting him with a high knee in the corner. Punk went to the top rope and John upset his balance, attempting to make Punk straddle the turnbuckles but he put too much power into it. He saw Punk tumble off the top rope, hit the stairs, and fall to the outside, practically in del Rio's lap. He had only meant to unbalance him, not break him into pieces.

Eventually, after trading off unsuccessful finishing maneuvers between them they were both laid out on the mat.

Punk lifted his arm to look at John from under it, "Do you see del Rio? He's getting antsy."

"I see it."

They both struggled back up. John went for the AA and Punk deftly countered him, and then he nailed him with a kick to the head. John was seeing stars. He felt himself being lifted up for the GTS and then heard someone yelling Punk's name. Punk dropped him onto the mat and walked to the ropes. He looked up to see the source of the yelling, Kevin Nash walking to the ring. Wait? Kevin Nash?

Punk was distracted by Nash and his back was turned. John didn't exactly feel the best about what he was about to do, but he had to get his Championship back. Punk turned around briefly and he hit the AA, pinning Punk.

Punk rolled to the side and John looked up the ramp seeing the supposedly hurt Nash walking away. When he turned back del Rio was there, kicks and punches coming from everywhere. He was getting the hell beaten out of him. He lifted his head just in time to see the ringside barrier rushing at him and he faded out of consciousness.

He came to with the ringside staff standing above him. He shook his head to clear it and gingerly stood up. He trudged up the ramp and walked to the locker room, Punk and his things weren't there.

_AN: Thank you for all the reviews. Expect a soon-ish update if my research for the next chapter doesn't completely freak me out_


	18. Chapter 18

John had been texting Punk continuously since the end of Raw, but he wasn't getting a response. Hadn't Punk himself said that if one of them saw the opportunity to win they should take it? Why wasn't he answering his calls? He was sore and exhausted from del Rio's beat down. He crawled under the sheets, but the bed felt cold without Punk. He eventually fell into a fitful sleep.

John awoke when the bed dipped behind him. Punk had come back. He turned his head to kiss Punk but he rotated his head to the side. He tried to chase Punk's mouth with his but his lips met Punk's ear.

"Are you so mad you won't even let me kiss you?"

"Ah cahnt."

"What?"

"Ah Cahnt!"

John turned the bedside lamp on and looked at Punk. The left side of his mouth was bulging out.

"What the hell?"

Punk took the gauze out his mouth and said slowly, his mouth barely moving, "Tooth got knocked out. Emergency dental work."

"How did your tooth get knocked out?"

Punk didn't speak and avoided his eyes.

"Oh, I see. I knocked your tooth out."

"I fell off the top rope."

"After I pushed you."

"It happens."

"Let me see," Punk gingerly opened his mouth. There were metal braces binding 3 of his teeth together.

"It'll heal fine. You look like hell."

"Del Rio beat me into unconsciousness," Punk looked at John with alarm and started moving his hands over John's body. "I'm not injured, just sore as hell."

Punk looked relieved.

"I just want to sleep," and Punk started stripping his clothes off. He turned around and John saw lines of black and blue across the back of Punk's thighs.

"Let me guess, when you fell off the top rope?" Punk just shrugged his shoulders.

"Move over." Punk crawled in bed behind John and wrapped himself around his body.

"I knock your tooth out and beat you black and blue and I get to be the small spoon?"

"You got knocked unconscious, you win."

John turned the lamp off and the room was plunged into darkness.

"Are you mad about the match," John whispered.

"Hell yes I am."

"I'm sorry."

"For what, you're not Kevin Nash or Triple H or John Laurinaitis or a million other possible accomplices."

"For taking advantage, when you were distracted."

"I would have done the same thing. I have done the same thing, to you, at Money in the Bank. Every day you spend with me you get more and more devious."

"No offense, but that's not who I want to be. I practically cheated tonight to win that match."

"John, listen to me. Between the two of us we have enemies coming at us from all sides. It's reasonable that you would react more aggressively than normal. You're still John Cena, Mr. Hustle, Loyalty, Respect, even if you stick the occasional toe into the gray area. That's all the talking I'm going to be doing tonight, my jaw is killing me."

"Thank you for the pep talk, I'm sure that was more than physically painful now that you've taken up residence in the gray area."

"Hmm."

"Goodnight Phil."

**August 23, 2011**

"Punk, wake up."

"No."

"Don't you want to leave Canada and get back to the states?"

Punk sat up, his jaw slightly swollen and just glared.

"Are you not talking to me because you're not a morning person or because you seriously can't talk?"

Punk held up two fingers and searched his bag, taking some aspirin.

By the time the reached the airport the painkillers seemed to have kicked in.

"Are you going home to Chicago?"

"Yeah, I need to do mundane stuff like pay bills and do laundry. It feels like I've been running around in these clothes for a month."

"You could come to Tampa when you're done. It's warm and I have a pool."

"Do you also have a high fence around your backyard?"

"As it happens, I actually do."

"Excellent I can think of a few things I would like to do to you in that pool that is clothing optional. Wait, there is no second option, clothes are banned."

"So you're planning to run around my house sans clothing for a few days. I think that's one of the most brilliant ideas you've ever had."

"Oh shut up, I'm not going to let you be clothed for long even if I have to throw your clothes in the tub and set them on fire."

"I think that would probably burn the house down too. And then where would be, standing in the street, naked, watching my house burn down.

**August 25, 2011**

"Welcome to Tampa."

"Your house is fantastic."

"You've only seen the living room and the kitchen."

"I saw the pool through the kitchen doors. Maybe I can get a real tan and not have to be sprayed down with that sick orange stuff."

"I'm surprised you allow that."

"Wait, I can say no?"

"I do. Do you know how foolish I'd look with a tan? I may live in Tampa but I'm from Massachusetts, not exactly the sunbathing capital of the world."

"I'm going to tell the make up techs that my new contract states that I no longer have to submit to spray tans."

"Be nice when you say it. If any WWE staff is onto us it's them. They've been covering up hickeys, and bite marks and nail gouges for the past few months."

"Since they are probably not conspiring against me I will be completely nice to the accommodating make up techs. Now, I'm pretty sure I came here with a game plan."

Punk just started stripping off in his kitchen, clothes flying everywhere. Eventually be was standing naked in his kitchen. Punk turned around, went through the sliding glass door and he heard a splash.

John left a trail of hastily thrown off clothes leading to the pool. He joined Punk in the middle of the pool just short of where they could no longer touch the bottom. Punk backed him against the wall and pinned his body there.

He kissed Punk and licked across the seam of his lips but Punk's mouth didn't open.

"I can't open my jaw that wide. At least for a week, dentist's orders."

"The dentist said you can't engage in frenzied kissing."

"Well he didn't say it, I asked."

"Of course you asked you're CM Punk. I would expect no less."

Punk tangled John's fingers with his, bracing them against the wall He worked his knee between John's legs, spreading them apart, and settled his body between them. He began rolling his body into John's, their erections sliding together between their bodies.

"Phil, I need…"

"Well you're not getting it. No mouths, no hands, you're going to come just like this."

Phil kept up a moderate pace, not enough to make him come but enough where Punk was driving him out of his mind. Not only was Punk keeping him on the edge of release, but he couldn't use his hands and mouth and he was actually aching with the denial. He started to whine, he could hear himself and knew that he had never made that noise before; Punk was going to drive him insane.

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear. You, too strung out to even beg me, just craving to touch something you've been denied. You've been so good, you should be rewarded."

Punk let go of John's hands. He immediately grabbed Punk by the shoulders, swung him around, and slammed him against the wall of the pool. He grasped Punk's hips, fingers digging in around his hipbones wrapping Punk's legs around his waist. He began a punishing rhythm. He pulled Punk's hair and tilted his head to look into his eyes. They locked eyes for a few moments and then Punk was coming between them, John following soon after watching Punk's face as he came undone.

"Were you trying to drive me out of my mind? You're not just a tease, that was cruel and unusual punishment."

"Eh, you know you damn well liked it."

"Hot tub?"

"Definitely."

Punk jumped out of the pool with his back to John. John's eyes widened and he walked behind Punk rubbing his shoulder blades.

"Hey, that burns!"

"You've got brush burns on your shoulders from rubbing against the pool wall."

John looked down and saw four finger shaped bruises on the back of his hips. He knew he should feel sorry for getting, perhaps, a little too rough but Punk seemed to like it that way, and honestly so did he. He'd never been as rough with anyone else he'd been with as he was with Punk. There was just something about Punk that made him want to manhandle him. He wanted to cover him in bites and bruises so that everyone knew Punk was his.

**August 28, 2011**

"Del Rio has to be the most pathetic Champion in the history of the company. He hasn't shown up for the last two house shows. He's probably somewhere sunning himself on vacation while he should be here defending his belt," Punk complained.

"He'll definitely be at Raw but will find some way to cower out of defending there too. At least we've had two conspiracy free days."

"That's because Triple H's ego won't allow him to work more than one day a week and Nash probably can't afford to chase my ass all over the country. That's what happens when you can't find a job because you can't wrestle worth a damn and you manage to injure yourself just by walking. And in case you haven't been paying attention, we've been the conspiracy for the past two shows. I've been wrestling R-Truth and you've been taking on The Miz who both believe that the WWE is keeping them down and when the say the WWE they mean mostly you."

"I haven't been competing for the title by myself. I distinctly remember you being there too."

"It's a sad day when I'm considered 'The Man'.

"Aww, don't worry. I'm sure on Monday you'll have to break out the Mystery Machine and look for clues."

"Now I'm thinking about Scooby Doo cartoons and Triple H and Nash. How am I supposed to be threatening when every time I look at them I see two guys running around an abandoned castle in sheets and being outsmarted by a Great Dane that talks?"

_AN: So I caught hell with this chapter. Probably due to tooth related research. I read somewhere about Punk getting his tooth knocked out and decided to incorporate it here. I had to research how to treat it and saw more pictures of mangled teeth than I could stand. It sucked all the creativity out of me. Thank you again to my great reviewers, hope you enjoy._


	19. Chapter 19

**August 29, 2011**

Punk entered the locker room and stopped short. John ran into the back of him, "Why did you stop?"

"What the hell is going on here on Raw now," Punk replied exasperatedly.

John stepped around him, "Randy! What are you doing here?"

"Triple H said to show up ready to compete and I'm not the only one."

John looked around the locker room and saw many faces from the Smackdown roster in the Raw locker room.

Punk walked up and joined the conversation, "As if I don't have to worry about everyone on the Raw roster out to get me, now I have to worry about Smackdown too?"

Randy leaned into John's ear as whispered just loud enough for Punk to hear, "I think your special friend is a little paranoid."

"Paranoid! Do you even watch Raw? And don't call me that, you make me sound like I'm some rabid fanboy."

"Well aren't you?"

"That's it. Both of you shut up. Randy, I thought you were fine with everything?"

"I was when I didn't have to see it up close and personal, now that I have to watch the live show I'm not so sure."

"You know what, whatever. I'll leave you two alone."

"Punk…"

"Oh let him go John. He'll get over his little snit."

"Do you have to wind him up like that; he's stressed out enough with everything that's going on?"

"It's nothing that he doesn't deserve for all the hell he's put you through in the past."

"If I don't care about that then you shouldn't either."

"Yeah, you'd probably say anything to get between those pretty thighs of his."

"If you weren't my best friend I'd punch you in the face right now and don't talk about his thighs, those are mine."

"Yours, huh? Too bad no one else can know that, I'm not the only one looking."

John turned around and his eyes scanned the room. There were a few guys whose eyes flitted to where Punk was dressing, but no one was obviously checking him out, until his eyes landed on Christian, who was most definitely checking his boyfriend out.

"You're gonna have a problem there my friend," Randy said, following John's eye line, "They've been friends since ECW."

As if to confirm Randy's words, Christian crossed the locker room to Punk and they hugged and all John could see was where Christian's hands were touching Punk's bare skin.

A stage tech opened the door, "Randy, we need you up front."

"Be right there," Randy looked again at Punk and Christian and walked out the door. As if he could feel John's eyes on him Punk looked up and gave John a questioning glance. John smiled at Punk like nothing was wrong but on the inside he was seething.

As people finished dressing they congregated in front of the bank of monitors. John was one of the last out. He scanned the crowd for Punk, finding him sitting next to Christian. Sure, they couldn't exactly be in each other's laps in front of the roster but they had sat side by side a few times watching the action from backstage. Friends and enemies were fluid in the WWE. Friendships broke apart and alliances were made frequently on the slightest of whims.

The show started with Triple H's music blaring through the arena. He could see Punk tense up from across the room. John realized he didn't care what the roster thought. He dragged a chair to Punk's other side and sat down. Punk turned toward John, his back to Christian so he could not see him narrowing his eyes at John.

"Couldn't we go just one show without starting off with a proclamation from the King of Kings," Punk complained.

"He's probably going to explain the Smackdown infiltration into the Raw locker room, which I most definitely want to hear," John said.

"Why does it even matter? Smackdown superstars can only improve the state of affairs on Raw," Christian said, a slightly threatening tone in his voice.

They both looked at Punk but his focus was on the monitor, not the two men flanking him testily.

Triple H announced that now Raw was going to be a 'Supershow.'

"Looks like Smackdown is here to stay," Christian said mockingly.

"Don't expect us to roll out the red carpet," John replied nastily.

"Punk," they both said simultaneously but Punk didn't respond he was glaring up at the monitor. Both he and Christian placed a hand on Punk's knee. He jumped.

"Huh, what? Triple H is complaining about being lied to by Laurinaitis and Nash. This is such a joke," Punk jumped up, knocking both their hands away and walked towards the entrance to the ring. Moments later Punk's music hit. Christian and John stared each other down, breaking eye contact to watch Punk on the monitors.

Punk started mocking Triple H's acting ability, being able to lie about him and Nash being in on it together, costing him the #1 contendership the week before. Punk was interrupted by Nash's old NWO music hitting and Nash walking down the ramp. Punk was not surprised in the slightest.

"Oh you're not in on this together, right," Punk said accusingly to Triple H.

Triple H started backing Punk up to the ring ropes, "You're not the only one being lied to around here. Let's get this straight before you start kicking people in the head."

Nash entered the ring with a microphone, immediately admitting to lying to Triple H about the car wreck.

"I might not have exactly acted the way you wanted me to, but my question is, what kind of man are you?" Nash said to Triple H.

"I'm the kind of man that doesn't expect to be lied to by my best friend," Triple H said pointing to the curtain and telling Nash to leave.

Then Nash dropped a bomb on Triple H, telling him that he had been signed to the Raw roster by Laurinaitis.

Punk couldn't even bring an expression of disbelief to his face. This farce was just rolling along in the ring, he'd been silent long enough listening to Nash and Triple H lying their assess off in front of him.

He started flopping around the ring making exaggerated retching noises. He didn't really have to fake it; this whole production was making him sick.

"Hey everybody the clique's back, which is kind of ironic since that's the noise the audience's remote control makes every time Kevin Nash pops up on their TV screen, and it's the noise your knees make every time you walk…click…click…click."

Nash, for the first time since he walked back into WWE had a good idea, a match between him and Nash, and Punk added, why not do it at Night of Champions.

Triple H's back was turned looking at Nash, Punk just started laying into Triple H, making sure to get a few digs in about how Triple H was his wife's little errand boy. He may have mentioned something about Triple H wearing her panties. He would say anything to goad Triple H into making that match. It worked, Triple H made the match.

He and Nash were staring each other down when Orton's music hit.

Punk returned to his spot in front of the monitors. John was sitting where he had left him but Christian was gone.

"I thought I was going to start choking on oxygen when you started rolling around the ring. You got your match with Nash, but how many other people are going to be involved in that match too? You don't have enough eyes to watch your back from that many angles."

"I know. Apparently on the way out of the gorilla position Triple H scheduled a match for me against The Miz. He must be the newest inductee into Triple H's collection of errand boys. Where did Christian go?"

John looked at Punk for a while before he answered, "Captain Complainer just got up and left."

"Hey, I know he's been a lot to take lately but his head's been screwed up since Edge left. And if I think I've been buried in the WWE, what they've done to him is criminal."

"Right," John just muttered and turned his attention away from Punk back to the monitors.

One of the backstage tech's walked up, "John they want to interview you backstage."

"Be right there," John got up to follow the tech not even looking back at Punk while he walked away.

John appeared on screen for the interview and it was obvious by his facial expression that he was extremely pissed off, he didn't say a word he just walked away, apparently to the ring. John hadn't been acting that way while they were in Tampa. Del Rio wasn't even here tonight. What the hell had happened while he was out in the ring?


	20. Chapter 20

John waited by the gorilla position for his music to hit. He had to get his head straight before going out to the ring. He took a deep breath and put his 'John Cena' smile on and walked out, playing to pretty mixed crowd.

He grabbed a mic and started tearing down del Rio, even crossing the PG line and calling him a douchebag. He may have a smile on his face but he was exceptionally angry tonight. Angry at del Rio for being such a coward and beating him senseless last week, angry at Christian for daring to even look at Punk much less touch him, and even a little pissed at Punk himself for reasons he couldn't explain.

He called del Rio out to the ring. He hadn't seen the man that night, the coward was probably avoiding him, but it was Mark Henry's music that cued up. What the hell? He had called del Rio out to 'get some' but apparently Henry took that as a general invitation to mix it up with him in the ring.

He was going to join 'the hall of pain' oh he didn't think so, but he was more than happy to take out his anger on the World's Strongest Man.

Then 'Close Your Eyes' began blaring through the arena. He had no doubt who had suggested to Mark Henry to come to the ring and threaten him. Christian wasn't man enough to confront him alone, so he had sent back-up out before him.

Christian started in on him saying John made him sick to his stomach, yeah, the feeling was mutual. He started calling him a whiner, a complainer, and then called him an embarrassment. Christian was just begging to have the taste knocked out his hypocritical mouth.

He started mocking Christian about his whining and his horrible orange spray tan. He called them both out to settle the rest of this spat physically. Henry threw his mic down but Christian did not, he started trying to hype Henry up, to convince Henry to beat John up. Christian threw down his mic when he realized Henry was with him, they both started to come at him but then Sheamus' music hit and he came out running to the ring. Sheamus stood by his side and Christian just bailed and walked back up the ramp.

John returned to his seat next to Punk at the monitors.

"Okay, what was that? You and Christian must have had some dust-up or something to account for what just happened in that ring."

"I really have no idea."

"Well, whatever is going on you'll have time to settle it tonight."

"What?"

"Triple H just made the match, you and Sheamus vs. Mark Henry and Christian. If you can't get along with Christian that's fine. I mean Randy and I definitely don't get along; just try not to antagonize him, okay? He doesn't think things through when he says them or he would know that pissing you off is not a wise course of action. I gotta go, my match is up next," Punk said walking towards the curtain.

He was waiting in the ring for Miz when he came out onto the ramp with a microphone. Miz mocking him for his behavior in the ring earlier that night. Great, not only did he have to deal with Triple H and his stooges but Miz and his conspiracy theories. He just rolled his eyes and yawned.

He had to admit that Miz kept getting the upper hand on him. He finally got Miz beaten down enough that he signaled for the GTS and that was when R-Truth came running to the ring. He tried to fend off Truth but then he and the Miz began to punch and kick him.

They tossed him through the ropes but by the time they got to him he had collected himself enough to fight back, clotheslining Truth and sending Miz careening into the ringside barrier. Truth recovered to throw him back in the ring. He hit the GTS on Truth, but when he looked up Nash was walking down the ramp to the ring.

Distracted by Nash, Miz jumped him from behind. Miz and Truth started viciously kicking and punching him while he lay prone on the mat. Nash waved them off and jackknife power bombed him.

John saw Punk storming past the monitor area on the way to the locker room. He knew better than to follow him. Punk needed a little space sometimes when his emotions were so heightened. Punk could say cruel things that he would regret later.

Punk came back to the monitor bank 15 minutes later in his street clothes.

"Feel better?"

"No. I'm going to cut out early; I can't stand to be in this building one second longer. Nash is going to get it at Night of Champions. I'm going to be on his back like a spider monkey and I'm going to choke him out until he's just a couple inches tall."

"Spider Monkeys are repulsive; you should never use that comparison again. I'll text you when I get back to the hotel."

"Hopefully you get back before I start to trash my hotel room. I'll need a distraction."

"Anything to save hideous hotel furniture," Punk smiled faintly and walked away.

John met Sheamus at the curtain. "I'm actually looking forward to this."

"Definitely, any opportunity to kick a little arse is good in my books."

Henry and Sheamus started it off in the ring, but Henry quickly tagged Christian in. John held his hand out, dying to be tagged in but Sheamus couldn't make the tag. Henry and Christian isolated Sheamus in their side of the ring.

Sheamus finally tagged him in and who was in the ring from the opposing side but Christian. John immediately went to work on Christian, telling him physically what he could not say verbally, to keep his hands off his Punk.

He locked Christian into the STF, he wanted to make Christian tap but Henry broke it up. Christian hit him with the Spear but he kicked out, getting Christian into place and hitting him with the AA, pinning him.

John went to the locker room to shower and change when he saw Punk's bag sitting in front of the locker he had been using. Punk wouldn't leave without his stuff. Where was he? John finished his shower and when he came out to change Punk's bag was still there.

The door to the locker room flew wide open, bouncing off the opposing wall, Punk storming through. He crossed the room, kicking his bag, sending it flying. John wisely stayed silent for a moment.

"I thought you were leaving. What happened?" John said in the most soothing way possible.

"One of the backstage techs stopped me on the way out, said Triple H wanted to see me. My match against Nash at Night of Champions has been canceled."

"Did Triple H tell you why?"

"Oh he told me alright. He called the Board of Directors to get special permission."

John did not like where this conversation was going, "special permission to do what?"

"To face me at Night of Champions instead. Triple H may be running around lying about anything he can think of but he wasn't the one that directly cost me matches and ambushed me in the ring."

"Triple H was bound to crack eventually. Like he says he may have on a suit but he's still the same guy he always was, and trust me on this, he is as ruthless as they come in the ring."

"I'm not afraid of fighting him; I'm just pissed that I won't be able to give Nash what he deserves for constantly screwing me."

"So are you going to take it easy on Triple H until the match, he's incensed enough already."

"Hell, no. I'm going to kick it up a notch. Now that he has permission to fight me that means not only can I keep insulting him, I can add in a few hits to his lying mouth."

"Let me get dressed and then we can go back to the hotel."

The locker room door opened and Christian and Henry walked in. Henry seemed pretty unconcerned about John being there, or even Punk sitting right next to John's locker watching him get dressed.

Christian on the other hand was watching them with interest. John could see Christian's mind working, trying to figure out what the situation was. It was one thing for John Cena and CM Punk to sit side by side, in full view of the entire roster, and watch the show together. It was another thing entirely to be sitting in touching distance of each other while one of them was practically naked.

Punk stood up, retrieved his overturned bag from across the room, "I'm going back to the hotel. See ya Cena, Christian," and he walked out the door.

Christian's eyes followed Punk out the door, and then he directed his gaze at John.

"What are you staring at?"

"Nothing, Cena, nothing at all."

When John got into his hotel room he texted Punk his room number and Punk said he would be right over.

John looked at the clock for the hundredth time. Punk said that he would come right over, that had been an hour ago. Finally there was a knock at the door.

"Sorry about taking so long. I opened the door to leave but Christian was in the hallway. He wanted to catch up. It was weird though."

"Weird how?"

"He kept asking questions about how long you and I had been friends, stuff like that."

"Did you tell him about us?"

"No, Christian's secret keeping abilities are 50/50 at best."

"Listen, about Christian…how close exactly are you."

"We've been friends for a while. ECW was a pretty rough place to work. It was considered the bottom of the ladder and everyone who worked there knew it. We were all in the foxhole together and all that."

"Were you two ever together?"

"That's a crazy question, of course not. I mean you can only hear the Edge and Christian rumor so many times before you start to believe it."

John looked Punk in the eyes while he made the statement about never being with Christian. Punk seemed genuinely confused as to why John had even asked that question.

Punk's face was completely open. John realized that Punk had no idea about Christian feeling anything but friendship towards him. Punk's abilities of perception were acute, but when it came to romantic interest Punk seemed to be completely oblivious. John knew that to be the truth, hadn't Punk not noticed his interest in him for the better part of a year. It was Punk that had initiated their current relationship by an inadvertent comment made during his famous promo.

He realized he had nothing to worry about on Punk's side of the equation.

John inclined his head and smiled, "Phil, come here…"

"Oooh, I've never seen that smile before, you look positively wicked."

"Then come over here to the bed and get a closer look."

_AN: I double updated today because I spent the entire weekend too lazy to even type. Thanks again to my reviewers. Enjoy!_


	21. Chapter 21

**August 30, 2011**

"Oh My God, John-boy. Answer your freaking phone," Punk groaned, flipping onto his stomach and slapping John in the face with his hand.

"Fine, I'm going." John was halfway across the room to get his phone out his pants, and then Punk's phone started to ring.

"Oh My God, Punk. Get your skinny, fat ass up and answer your phone."

"That comment sounds even stupider coming out of your mouth than it did from Triple H's."

John took his phone into the bathroom and closed the door so the person on the other line couldn't hear Punk's phone conversation. When he came out the bathroom Punk was pulling his clothes on haphazardly.

"I've got to get back to my room and pack, quickly."

"You've been summoned to Smackdown tonight too?"

"It seems so. Serves them right after infiltrating Raw last night. But, hey, private WWE jet. I've never seen the inside of it before."

"I've seen it. It's just a plane with a WWE insignia on the tail. What's going to be interesting is putting all the guys on one plane together. We could pop the emergency door open and have a battle royal at 30,000 feet."

"Don't even joke about that. Now Mark Henry is going to trip going down the aisle and pop the door open when he falls over."

When they boarded they picked two seats in the middle of the couch along the side of the plane. Randy boarded and sat to John's right. When Christian boarded he sat on Punk's left.

Once the plane was at cruising altitude a road agent was making the rounds telling the guys what matches were scheduled for the night. John would be facing Wade Barrett and Punk would be participating in a contract signing for his match with Triple H at Night of Champions.

"Not that I mind whipping Barrett's ass, but look who isn't on the flight, del Rio," John said, frustration clear in his voice.

"Maybe he's on another flight since he wasn't on Raw last night, and why do I keep having to do these moronic contract signings. Triple H the wrestler wouldn't waste his time with such a dumb ass circus, but Triple H the COO has to do things by the book. I'm not flipping over any tables this time; it's a total WWE cliché that I will not be initiating. The only positive thing is that Nash might show up tonight. Just because we won't be having a match because of Triple H's ego doesn't mean I don't get to get a few shots in."

"You know you really need to stop making so many enemies. You're going to run out of bones to break eventually," Randy cut in.

"They have just as many bones to break as I do."

"The only way you're going to be breaking any of Triple H's bones is if you line your kick pads with steel, and it doesn't count that Nash could break something just by looking at him sideways."

"Guys, tone it down a little, it's not even breakfast time yet," John interjected.

"Just because my boy can talk circles around your friend doesn't mean you have to protect Orton's fragile ego. Then again, if he keeps humiliating him he might take leave of reality and start humping the floor and banging his fists."

John was too angry at Christian calling Punk 'my boy' that he couldn't even respond. Randy had no such problem.

"If you don't shut your whiney, pathetic mouth I'm going to find a tray table and beat you unconscious with it."

"I'm not so uncouth that I'm going to start something on a plane in mid-air just because you can't control your hysterical tendencies," Christian replied smarmily.

"That's it. We're going to play the quiet game until we get to Wichita. So, Cena, looking forward to Puerto Rico?"

"I thought we were playing the quiet game," Randy muttered huffily.

"You and Christian are playing the quiet game, Cena and I are free to speak because we can manage to have an adult conversation even though we've beat each other silly in the past," Punk said flippantly.

After a time the captain announced that they would be landing soon.

"Thank God. I can't stand to be around you 3 for one more minute," Randy said toying with the buckle on his seatbelt and eying the door longingly.

"For once we agree Orton, let's never do this again," Punk was annoyed beyond the telling of it.

After they landed they went to the hotel and checked in then shuttled over to the arena. Walking down the hallway, John lagged behind, pulling Randy by his shirt until they were a little ways behind the rest of the guys.

"I want you to beat that boy black and blue tonight. If you break both his hands so he can't touch Phil anymore I would be grateful."

"I was thinking more along the lines of breaking his jaw so it has to be wired shut."

"Can't you do both? Aren't you the Apex Predator after all?"

They walked into the locker room and Punk was standing in the middle with his bag by his side talking to Daniel Bryan. Christian was hovering nearby, ready to pounce on the locker next to Punk's. John chose a locker and Punk slid into the one next to his. Randy stealthily took the one next to Punk's. Punk looked at him like he had suddenly gone crazy.

"This is as friendly as I plan to get with you, don't get used to it," Randy stated.

"There goes my plan for us to give each other pedicures later."

"Not that I like infringing on someone's gimmick but Oh My God would you shut the hell up."

"For once in my life, gladly."

The guys congregated around the monitor banks, Punk catching up with Daniel Bryan. Christian started to make his way over but Randy stood in his way.

"You need to stay away from Punk."

"He's my friend and he is most definitely not yours."

"Keep this up and you're going to find yourself in a world of trouble, just a warning from me to you. I wonder what Edge would say about you stalking Punk."

Christian paled and walked away hastily.

"I am so looking forward to tonight," Randy murmured to himself.

John's music cued up. He was going out there to call del Rio out again. At this point he had little faith that del Rio was actually in the building but any opportunity to humiliate that coward was good. Of course he didn't come out, he sent his insipid ring announcer to face him. So del Rio was going to be off the grid until their match at Night of Champions.

John couldn't resist and hit Rodriguez, he was just in the mood to kick a little ass and Barrett seemed like the perfect stand-in. Barrett was droning on and on, a punch to his mouth was well deserved. John wasted no time taking it to Barrett. He had him pinned after the Attitude Adjustment. The match couldn't have lasted more than 5 minutes.

Punk was waiting for him in the gorilla position, his eyes shining and clutching his phone.

"You're coming with me, now," Punk said dragging John down a hall populated with wires and cases. He pulled him into a storage room Punk must have discovered while he was in the ring.

"You don't have much time before your contract signing," John said but began unbuckling his belt anyway.

"Oh keep your pants on; I didn't drag you in here to get off. I thought you might like a little privacy when you read this…" and handed John his phone.

"The Wrestling Observer. Great. Did they have something to say especially hilarious about me today?"

"Just keep reading."

"Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah."

"Just get to the match ratings."

"I don't see why this is so important…," and John stopped speaking, he practically stopped breathing. "Is this a joke? No way is this true."

"It's for real; Evan couldn't wait to show me, he was actually bouncing."

"Me, in a 5 star rated match."

"The WWE hasn't had one of those since 1997 when Shawn Michaels wrestled the Undertaker in Hell in a Cell. See, no matter what anyone says you can wrestle! Apparently better than anyone in the ring in 14 years."

John rushed him pulling him into a hug that was so fierce Punk felt a vertebrae pop. He buried his head in Punk's neck and started to breathe shakily. "It was all you, you did this."

"No, we did this. Even the Wrestling Observer thinks we're brilliant together."

"Speaking of brilliant," John dropped to his knees, his hands on Punk's hips pulling his trunks down.

"I didn't show you this because I wanted to get some. I don't think an orgasm is going to put me in the right frame of mind to deal with Triple H."

"You're CM Punk, they'll hold the show for you, and screw Triple H, I want to do this, let me have you, just for a little while before you go out there trailing pipe bombs behind you."

Punk reached down, running his fingertips over John's lips. "How can I say no when you ask so nicely. I want you to have me, not just right now but all the time."

"Phil, God, you make me so hot every time you open your mouth," and then John sucked Punk's semi-erect cock into his mouth. He started sucking furiously, like he was trying to set a record for the most intense blow job in the shortest amount of time. In seconds Punk was fully hard. John pulled his mouth back until only an inch or two was in his mouth, then he slid his hands back to clutch Punk's ass. He pulled forward so that Punk's hips moved forward, sending his full length down John's throat. John pulled back and repeated the motion again.

John pulled his mouth all the way off, nuzzling his cheek on Punk's hipbone. He looked up to stare into Punk's eyes which were starting to glaze over. "Fuck my mouth, I want you to, please Phil, please."

Punk only nodded his head. John put his mouth back on Punk's cock and his hips rocked forward gently. John picked up his right hand and slapped Punk's ass. Punk seemed to have received the message, wrapping his hands around John's head and pulling him forward fiercely. Punk established a ruthless speed, his cock hitting the back of John's throat on every thrust.

John couldn't help but moan.

"John, holy fuck, don't stop."

He started moaning continuously, letting his teeth lightly slip scrape the underside of Punk's cock. Punk's nails started to dig into his scalp.

"John, I can't…, John, John, John…"

Punk snapped his hips forward one last time, burying himself as far as possible holding John's head to his groin, coming hard and fast down his throat.

Punk pulled out, his knees buckling, and falling to the floor. John leaned over Punk, and in a burst of speed Punk had pulled him down on top of him, using arms and legs. He kissed John fervently, trying to capture the taste of John's mouth. One of Punk's hands slid down his chest to the button on his shorts.

"No time sweetheart, remember. Don't worry, next time you go down on your knees. You should probably keep your knee pads on; I want you to suck me so hard that you can barely speak the next day." John knew there really wasn't any time but he couldn't help himself. He started kissing Punk again, grabbing two handfuls of his hair.

"Punk, Punk, CM Punk."

"There's your curtain call." John pulled Punk up to a standing position, redressing him. He slapped him on the ass one more time, "Go out there and give the COO hell."

Punk stared at him longingly, sneaking one last kiss and he was out the door.

Punk dragged himself to the curtain where Triple H was already waiting. Triple H turned his head to barely acknowledge him but then slapped his palm to his face. "Jesus Christ, can someone get him another shirt."

"Fashion police are we?"

"No, the back of your shirt looked like someone used it to mop a dirty floor."

Punk pulled off the shirt to exchange it for the new one the stage tech had found.

"Why don't you pull your trunks all the way up, and no, I don't want to know if that's a handprint and smooth your hair back it looks like a rat's nest."

Punk actually started to blush.

"And just so you know, you smell like sex."

_AN: Thanks again to all my reviewers, you guys rock._


	22. Chapter 22

Punk just stared at Triple H dumbfounded.

"So that what's it takes to make you shut your smart mouth," Triple H said and then walked through the curtain out onto the ramp.

Triple H went out and told the audience that he had cancelled the match of CM Punk vs. Kevin Nash because he wanted to deal with CM Punk himself. Punk was pissed about not being able to pay Nash back for all the hell he had caused him, but going one on one with Triple H wasn't a bad trade in the long run.

He walked out into the arena and headed to the ring, taking a seat while Triple H remained standing. Triple H was already manhandling the furniture. It was disappointing that Teddy Long was out there to officiate when it was so much more fun when Laurinaitis was there because he was such an easy target.

Triple H began to make the case for changing the match, "I would have thought you made up in intelligence what you lack in hygiene."

It was a backhanded compliment with a little dig at the end on the state of his appearance when he was about to go to the ring earlier.

Punk was taken off guard by that comment and the fact that Triple H was making some sort of sense in the moment. It was the COO who got his new entrance music approved and paid for and the shirt that he wore on his back in Chicago was now mass produced for the entire WWE Universe to wear. These were all true statements.

He needled Triple H some more but then he said something that knocked him back on his metaphorical heels. Were he and Triple H a lot alike? They had both done whatever possible to make it to the top of the WWE and maybe he had taken a back door to the place in the company that he occupied now, but he wasn't trying to be the man. If he was it would be del Rio whose buttons he was trying to push not Triple H's. He had tested the man to see if he could do a better job than Vince McMahon and so far Triple H had failed with flying colors, setting in place a scheme where he used people like Nash and Laurinaitis to do his dirty work for him.

Punk picked up the pen and signed the contract sliding it across the table to Triple H. Triple H signed the contract and told him that this had nothing to do with business but it was personal, "I'm going to kick you skinny, fat ass."

Here Triple H went again with that crazy insult that Punk did not understand in the slightest. The first time he said it Punk just thought he flubbed what he was trying to say but here he went again. He was going to have to google it or something when he went backstage.

And there went Nash's music. He should have known that Triple H wouldn't face him like a man but would trot out his decrepit sidekick. Triple H made a show of looking like he was pissed when he was the one that had called in the cavalry.

Punk jumped out his seat, flipping his chair back to attack Nash but Triple H was on him, pushing him back against the ropes to keep him and Nash separated. Punk got free and took it to Nash but Triple H stepped in pushing him away with such force that he went tumbling head over feet. He got up and was met with a high boot from Nash to the head. He fell back to the ground.

Clutching his head he looked up to see Nash push Triple H to the mat. He hadn't given Triple H enough credit as an actor, he looked truly shocked.

Punk went back to the locker room to change into his street clothes. He took his time because he was dealing with a mass of confusion. Triple H really was shocked at what had occurred in the ring. Maybe his scheme had turned around and bit him in the ass.

He heard the door open, expecting John, but was met with Christian instead. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

"It's about you and Cena."

"Listen, I can tell you don't like it but John and I are friends now."

"John, huh?"

Christian walked around the bench to stand at Punk's side, sliding his hand up Punk's bare arm to rest on his shoulder rubbing his thumb against Punk's collarbone. Something was going very wrong here. Christian had always been handsy but nothing quite as personal as this. The only person he allowed to touch him like this was John, and that was exactly the way he wanted it. He sat down quickly, Christian's hand left hovering in the air where it had been previously on Punk's skin.

"I just wanted to tell you that you should watch out for John. He's not exactly known for his lasting friendships. He likes to flash those dimples of his around and before you know it has a guy flat on his back. He gets around and I know for a fact that you don't. I just wanted to tell you to keep your guard up around him. I would hate to see him ruin you."

"Ruin me?"

"You think some of the guys that have been shown the door were done so because they couldn't make it in the WWE. I know that you don't believe that. When SuperCena was through with them he just got them out of his way."

"Well John and I aren't anything other than friends so I don't think I have anything to worry about. I'm not even chasing after the title right now."

"Soon enough you'll be back in the Championship picture. I guess we'll see what kind of friend he is then. Aren't you going to wish me luck in my match?"

"I would say luck is for losers, but lucky for you Orton is already a loser, so you're set."

Christian smiled a smile that took Punk aback and walked out the room. Punk couldn't exactly put a label on that unsettling smile. He heard a rustling from the adjoining trainer's room and Orton walked out.

"So I'm a loser, huh? You must want to get on my very slight good side because as far as insults go that's pretty mild," Randy said with a laugh but it didn't travel to his eyes. "You really need to watch out for that creepy little bastard."

"You heard all of that?"

"I'm going to be straight with you here. John isn't a possessive person by nature but I can clearly see that he is that way about you. It's been that way for a while."

"A while? How precisely long is 'a while?"

"If you and John haven't had that conversation don't expect me to start revealing his confidences. What I'm trying to say here is that every time some guy looks at you in a way that isn't merely friendly it gets his hackles up."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"You think all these new friends you've seem to accumulated only want to be just friends. You've shown you have a more approachable side to you and some guys are just waiting for the right time to go in for the kill."

Punk just looked confusedly at Randy.

"For someone as intelligent as you proclaim yourself to be you really gave a blind side when it comes to attraction. Those guys don't just want to be friends because you're slick on the microphone and you're the highly questionable 'best in the world' in the ring. All they really want it to lay their hands on your pert ass."

Punk looked at Randy and slid a little ways down the bench.

"For crying out loud, I'm a happily married man. I'm just trying to give you a little advice here. John may be able to stomach all those covetous glances guys throw your way but Christian is taking it to the next step. John won't allow that to continue for very much longer. It's going to come down to your shifty friend and your jealous boyfriend, you're going to have to make a choice and make it soon. I've got to go out there and beat your friend six ways from Sunday and don't think that I'll be the only one enjoying it. Come on, I'll walk you out to John at the monitor bank so you're not accosted by fanboys."

They walked to the monitor bank and John was sitting with the guys, draped over two seats.

"I'm sure he's saving that for you. Just think about what I've said," and Randy walked away.

Punk walked up to John and John sat up straight, patting the seat of the chair next to him. "So that out there with Triple H was a little strange."

"Yeah, I have to admit that I'm pretty confused by it myself."

"You're confused. That doesn't happy very often," and John smiled his dimpled smile but his eyes were reflecting more than just a happy smile. There was definite heat in his glance, like he wanted to throw Punk down and do naughty things to him no matter who was watching, and then John's blue eyes went completely icy. Punk looked over his shoulder, and just like Randy said, there were eyes on him that looked a shade more heated than mere friendliness. He felt John's arm slide over the back of his chair, jerking the seat closer to him.

Punk turned around to face John waiting until his eyes met his. "Phil, you have the strangest look in your eyes, what's up?"

"I need to talk to you about something."

"Now?"

"No, it can wait until tonight after the show when we have some privacy."

"Speaking of privacy, you smell delicious right now," John said as he lowered his nose almost to Punk's neck.

"Triple H said I smelled like sex."

"You don't smell like sex, you smell like me."


	23. Chapter 23

_AN: I'm double updating tonight because this chapter is like ALL dialogue and I know that can be annoying to some. Hopefully you'll take this quick update as a peace offering._

Punk followed John into his hotel room. John immediately pushed Punk up against the door, pressing his lips to Punk's.

"Wait, I need to talk to you, not for you to seduce me, unless that's all you're interested in doing."

"What are you talking about?" John looked genuinely hurt.

"I had two very strange conversations in the locker room tonight," Punk said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"And who were these strange conversations with?"

"Well, first Christian…"

"And what did Captain Grabby-Hands have to say?" John stood stock still clenching his fists.

"Exactly how many guys have you been with in the WWE?"

"So, that's how Christian is playing now. To be honest, a few, but none of them are here anymore in case you're wondering if I have some spurned ex-lovers running around."

"And why aren't they here?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"Did you get rid of them, is that why they aren't around anymore?"

"Why would you say something like that? Let me guess…Christian again."

"He was the one that said it, along with a lot of other uncomplimentary things about you. Truthfully, did you have a hand in getting rid of them?"

John dropped his head like he was ashamed. "Maybe I did, but not in that way that you're thinking. I didn't go to Vince and ask him to eject my ex's when I was done with them, but I didn't always treat them the way I should. I've made some mistakes where my relationships are concerned. Maybe I was just looking for a little fun but I didn't make that clear to them in the beginning and it led to feelings being hurt and they didn't want to stay around after that."

"Am I just a bit of fun?"

John sat next to Punk on the bed, "You know that you're not, you have to know. I haven't…I don't…What I feel for you is something that I've never felt for anyone else."

"That's what Randy said."

"Randy was there too? This locker room is sounding more and more like Grand Central Station."

"How long have you had feelings for me?"

"Physically or emotionally?"

"Both."

"Physically, since you came to the WWE. I mean, look at you; you had the entire gay or bi contingent of the WWE panting after you. I would know because I was right there with them. Even during that Straight Edge Society period when I just wanted to strip you down and attack you with a razor."

"And now, they're still looking aren't they?

"Randy sure had a lot to say didn't he? It's your total obliviousness that draws them to you. You have them salivating at the mere thought of you and it probably doesn't help that you do your job practically naked. Sometimes I just want to throw a sheet over you and tell that to avert their fucking eyes before I punch them out of their skull."

"Randy said that you weren't the possessive type, but you are with me aren't you."

"You're goddamn right I am."

Punk just sat there speechless

"Do you not like it? It seemed like you did. I can stop if you don't."

"That's the issue. I know that I probably shouldn't like it, but I do. Is that all you want from me, my body?"

"No, I want all of you, and I want you all to myself."

"And how long has that been going on for?"

John averted his eyes, "About a year."

"A year? But for a good part of that year I was persecuting you with the Nexus at my back."

"Maybe I just wanted you near me, in any way that I could get it. Maybe that makes me fucked in the head, but it's true. I never would have had the balls to approach you if you hadn't said what you said about me during your infamous promo, that you liked me more than most of the guys in the back. You were practically handing me my one chance and leaving the company at the same time. Why do you think I tried so hard to get you reinstated after you were suspended? I could let you walk away with the Championship, but not before I took my chance, no matter how crazy it seemed at the time."

"I didn't want to walk away from you either."

"And why was that?"

"Maybe it started out as just physical, I mean look at you, and Randy was right when he said one dimpled smile from you was enough to put a guy on their back. But it became more very quickly. Maybe it was always a little more than just your looks. Sometimes that SuperCena act makes me want to slap you silly and sometimes it makes me want to screw you silly."

"Screw me silly, huh?"

"I know we haven't talked about the Straight Edge thing before…"

"Listen, I know how to use Wikipedia. I know you're not promiscuous and I'm not going to push you for more when I know you're not ready for it. What we have right now is enough, sometimes it's more than enough and I think you're going to drive me out of my mind."

Punk pulled John down to the bed, putting his head on John's chest, throwing his arm and leg over John's body. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, I'd do anything for you, I hope you know that."

"I do."

"Not to ruin this moment, but back to Christian…"

"I know I've been making excuses for him because he's my friend, that he's too easily provoked, that his head has been messed up since Edge left, but in the locker room tonight…"

"Tell me what happened."

"He touched me."

"He always touches you too much for my taste."

"Tonight it was different, or maybe I just finally figured out what's been going on all along. He touched me, like this..." and Punk demonstrated on John what Christian had done.

John's entire body seized up and then he jumped out of Punk's arms heading for the door. "I'm going to break his fucking hands."

Punk jumped up and wrapped his arms around John from the back, plastering himself to him. "Don't worry about Christian, I'll stay away from him, I promise. I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me."

"Fine, but only because I know he's already somewhere writhing in pain. Randy sure did a number on him tonight, completely deserved as it turns out."

Punk led John back towards the bed. "Just hold me. I really just need to know that you're with me tonight after everything."

"Like I always say…yes, Phil, yes, whatever you want."

Punk started to undress, but John stilled his hands, "No, let me."

John undressed him slowly, pulling back the covers and laying him down on the bed. John stripped off his clothes, lying down next to Punk wrapping him in his arms and kissing his forehead. "Let's just forget about everyone else for one night, right now it's just you and me."

"I had an idea along those lines; let's go to Puerto Rico early. It'll be like a mini-vacation. The roster knows we're friends now and we're not fighting with each other over the title right now. I don't mind if some fans see us lying out on a beach together. And we won't be inviting any of the fans back to the room with us at the end of the night."

"What are you talking about just the nighttime; it doesn't have to be dark outside for me to want to get my hands all over you."

They settled in and then Punk jumped up and reached over the edge of the bed for his jeans and pulled out his cellphone.

"What are you doing? You just broke the most fantastic cuddle of your lifetime to make a phone call?"

"No. I need to google something."

"Seriously?"

"It's just something that Triple H keeps saying and it's driving me insane."

"What's that?"

"What the hell does 'skinny, fat ass' even mean?"

"Oh that. That's a bodybuilding term. It means a person that is skinny, but without a lot of muscular definition."

"I'm not under any delusions about what I look like but that's just mean, even if almost everyone listening has no idea what he's talking about. He just sounds confused about how the English language actually functions."

"I personally find your skinny, fat ass highly attractive as I'm sure that you've noticed."

"Maybe I should spend more time in the gym."

"I spend enough time in the gym for the both of us, and I like that you're soft…here…and here," John whispered running his hand down Punk's side and sliding down to caress his ass cheek.

"Okay, now you're putting me in the mood to do more than just cuddle."

"I do love your mercurial nature."

"Mercurial? Where in the world did that come from?"

"Wikipedia."

"What were you reading?"

John turned his head into Punk's shoulder and murmured something.

"What was that?"

"I was reading your Wikipedia page."

"Seriously. Most of that stuff is utter crap."

"What about the parts about you seeming to enjoy dating people in the business?"

"It's just easier that way, people in the business understand better than people with regular jobs what the life is like."

"Maybe I'm not phrasing this the right way…I mean the girls."

"Oh, them. I guess if you wanted to put a label on it then you could say that I'm bi, but I do hate labels. I just feel the way I feel for a particular person, the sex of that person doesn't really come into play."

"And the guys…"

"They've been a few but of course you won't find that on my Wikipedia page."

"Yeah you won't find anyone of any sex on my Wikipedia page. Probably because I'm gay as blazes and none of the higher up's in the WWE want the world to know that their poster boy is gay as the day is long."

"You don't mind do you, about the girls I mean."

"It bothered me some at one point; it was just double the competition for something that I thought I could never have. Now I don't really care who's in your past, I just want to know that I'm your present and hopefully your future."

"It's a shame we're already naked because that comment would have talked me right out of my clothes."


	24. Chapter 24

**August 31, 2011**

Punk woke early the next morning checking for available flights from Wichita to Puerto Rico. There were obviously no direct flights but the first one he found had a connection in Atlanta which was moronic. He found a flight that connected through Dallas that was leaving in a couple of hours. He also found a hotel that had a private beach. At this point he didn't really care who saw him and John together but better to be safe than sorry when the opportunity presented itself.

He shook John awake and informed him of their travel plans. Once they were in-flight Punk told him about the resort they would be staying at.

"It will definitely be easier to sneak around in a foreign country without the rest of the roster there."

"Where were you planning on sneaking exactly?"

"To your room of course."

"That'll be easy considering we're staying in the same hotel room."

"Ohh, the romanticism of separate beds."

"There aren't separate beds, just the one."

"You're really pushing the envelope aren't you?"

"We're going on an actual, though brief vacation; I want to be able to do whatever I want for once."

"I think you've made a career out of doing whatever you want."

"Maybe in my professional life but not in my personal life. We've shacked up in Chicago and Tampa but we couldn't leave the house because we couldn't be seen together in public.

They connected in Dallas without any trouble. Punk could see a few people glance askance at them walking through the airport together but no one made a big deal out of it. By the time they made it to Puerto Rico it was late afternoon.

"Why don't we go for a walk on the beach, check the place out."

They got down to the beach which was pretty much deserted. They walked down the beach past the main stretch, John brushing his hands occasionally against Punk's as they walked. Walking past a sand dune took them out of sight of the hotel. John reached out and grabbed Punk's hand. Punk looked down at their joined hands for a moment, then kept walking.

"This is a first, I don't think we've ever held hands like this before," Punk said, squeezing their entwined hands.

"I didn't think that you were the hand holding sort, but at this moment I don't really care. We're in a beautiful place on a deserted beach with the sun setting. I think a little romance is in order."

They came upon two beach loungers. John laid down in one and Punk went to take the other. John pulled him down on top of him, back to chest, looping one hand around his shoulders and the other around his waist. He nuzzled his head into Punk's neck, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

"This is nice. Do you sometimes wish we were different people, people with ordinary jobs, that we didn't have to hide who we really are all the time?"

"It would be nice, to be able to be in a crowd of people and still have some sense of privacy, but that's not who we are. We both chose this life knowing the limitations that would come along with it."

They both fell silent as the sun finished setting. There was a breeze coming in off the water that was chilling the air a bit. They got up and began walking back to the hotel, hand in hand. They heard voices nearing them from the other side of the dune. They slowly untwined their hands.

Rounding the corner Punk stopped suddenly.

"What?" John turned around to face Punk with a questioning glance. Punk just motioned ahead of them. Walking toward them was John Morrison and Melina.

"So I see we weren't the only ones to take advantage of this trip," John said amiably.

The guys continued to talk but Punk's eyes were on Melina. It was obvious from her smile that John had told her everything. Melina stepped forward, linking her arm through Punk's and leading him back down the beach to the hotel.

"You look like you're about to pass out. There's nothing to worry about, John tells me everything you know and no one knows more than me how it's better to keep things private if you don't want them used against you. I'm probably going to be on the outs with the WWE until they finally decide to just dump me; hopefully I don't pull John down along with me."

The guys caught up to them. "Listen, we're going out for dinner, you two want to come with?" Morrison asked.

John looked at Punk, letting him make the decision, "Sure sounds like fun."

They went to a casual place where they tried to blend into the crowd as much as two muscular guys, one heavily tattooed guy, and one stunningly beautiful woman could.

They kept the conversation light and Punk was actually surprised by the amount of fun he was having. Melina was hilarious. They finished dinner and headed back to the hotel.

"See you guys around," Morrison called after them, Melina waving at them as they walked away.

John and Punk returned to the hotel room.

"That was an interesting double date," Punk said laughingly. "Technically, that was also our first date. I can feel the salt on my skin, I need a shower." Punk started moving towards the bathroom stripping off clothes as he went, "Well, are you coming?"

Punk turned the water on and stepped under the spray. He felt the shower door open and colder air invade the space. He felt John press behind him stepping under the spray as well. John started pressing kisses from behind his ear, around his hairline, to the other side of his jaw. Punk turned around in John's arms kissing him gently, biting his bottom lip lightly. John opened his mouth wider, pressing his tongue to the seam of Punk's lips coercing his mouth open. He dipped his tongue into Punk's mouth, touching their tongues lightly, trying to draw Punk's tongue into his mouth.

John wrapped his arms around Punk, hands massaging any skin he could get his hands on. He hooked his teeth around Punk's tongue piercing drawing Punk's tongue as deep as he could into his mouth. He grabbed Punk by the back of his head enticing Punk to kiss him harder, mouths mashing together and teeth clicking together.

John pulled Punk into his body swiftly, turning so his back hit the wall of the shower, wrapping his leg around Punk's waist to keep him in place. He began to grind their hips together, palms sliding down to Punk's hips, coaxing him into the fierce rhythm he craved. Their erections were sliding together, pelvic bones moving against each other sharply. They continued that pace for a while but the intensity of his want for Punk was making him weak in the knees.

John buried his head in Punk's neck panting, "please, Phil, bed." Punk turned the water off, stepping out of the shower, John following him, grabbing something from his suitcase. When he turned around Punk was crawling onto the bed ass high in the air. John tackled him to the bed, wrapping himself around Punk, flipping them until Punk was hovering over him. John reached up with his hands, locking them around the slats in the headboard. John pulled his heels up, using them to bring their groins into contact, resuming the hard rhythm that he had initiated in the shower.

"Harder Phil, I want to feel it tomorrow."

Punk picked up speed, water and sweat aiding their bodies to slide up against each other easily. Punk continued to slam their groins against each other. John locked his thighs around Punk's hips stilling him, moving one hand from around the headboard, grabbing something from under the pillow, pressing it into Punk's palm. Punk looked down, a tube of lube in his hand.

"Fuck me with your fingers; I want to feel you in me when I come."

Punk lowered his head to brush their lips together and placed the lube on the bedside table. "We don't need that."

Punk slid down John's body, lifting John's knees over his shoulders. He started kissing and nipping John's hipbones, moving down to the muscle that connected groin to thigh and bit down hard. John's back arched, "Yes, Phil, more."

Punk slid his hands under John's ass, lifting his hips off the bed. Punk dragged his head down lower, sucking one ball, then the other into his mouth briefly. He lowered his head more, tounging the area behind his balls. Then Punk's tongue dipped even lower, circling John's hole with his tongue but not penetrating.

John began emitting a keening noise. Punk removed his tongue and John's hands tightened more on the headboard, "Please, god, Phil, don't stop, please don't stop."

Punk looked up at John, sucking two of his fingers into his mouth, wetting them down thoroughly. Immediately lowering them to John's hole, sliding both inside at once. Punk immediately started scissoring his fingers, opening John up forcefully.

"More, I need more, Phil."

Punk immediately slipped a third finger in, rotating them until he found the spot inside John and pressing against it roughly over and over.

John pressed his head back against the pillow, his breath hitching in his throat.

Punk lowered his head back down sliding his tongue into John's loosened hole, gently penetrating him. John started rolling his hips, trying to get more contact with Punk's tongue. Punk began tongue fucking him earnestly. Then John felt two fingers sliding in along with Punk's tongue.

"Phil…"

Punk didn't need any more direction; he slid another finger alongside the others, moving in a hard pace. Punk lifted his head up, his fingers still inside, rotating them roughly. Punk slid his pinkie in beside the others, watching John fall apart as he stretched him wide around four of his fingers.

"Oh, holy fuck me."

Punk dipped his head down, engulfing John's cock in his mouth, John coming almost immediately. John's hands flew from the headboard to Punk's head, pulling him up to his mouth before Punk could even swallow. John shoved his tongue into Punk's mouth feeding on the fluid he found there, initiating a dirty, probing kiss, the taste in Punk's mouth making him senseless.

John pulled his mouth away, breathing heavily, his hands falling from the headboard to tumble next to his head.

"Was that too…" Punk started, but John cut him off.

"It was perfect, you're perfect."

"You look absolutely wrecked right now; I could get off just watching you come."

"You might have to, I'm not sure I can move right now."

"No need," and Punk settled his hips over John's pelvic bone, spreading his legs, his hand gripping his erection, moving his hand surely. In a few strokes he was coming over John's chest. Punk bent his head down, licking up his own come, initiating another dirty kiss.

"Oh god, I don't think I can take anymore, you're killing me," John murmured against Punk's lips.

"Maybe I am a little slutty, that technically was our first date after all."

"Note to self, take Phil on more dates."

_AN: For some reason this chapter was like pulling teeth. Thank you again to my reviewers_


	25. Chapter 25

**September 1, 2011**

John was usually the one up early, trying to persuade Punk to get out of bed, but this morning John was sprawled across the whole bed, dead to the world. Punk dressed and went for a run. After returning an hour later, John was still asleep. Punk climbed into bed with him, perching on his hip bones trailing light kisses down his spine. John began to stir, and then he shifted, throwing his whole weight against Punk, pinning him down.

"Well, good morning to you too. I wasn't expecting to be manhandled by you first thing in the morning."

"Live with it. I could spend a considerable amount of time manhandling you; there just aren't enough hours in the day."

"Do you want something to eat?"

"Yeah, I'm starving. Have them sent up some pancakes."

"Now I know you're on a real vacation, opting for such an unhealthy meal. You're gonna hate yourself when you go to the gym and have to work this off. It'll definitely cut into your manhandling time."

"My body can take one day off and not fall to pieces," John sat up, wincing a little.

Punk looked concerned. "Maybe I shouldn't have been so rough."

"I wanted exactly what you gave me, no one's ever done that for me before."

"What?"

"Look at me, I can be pretty aggressive a lot of the time. Everyone I dated just always assumed that I want to be in control, so it never happened with anyone else and I didn't know how to ask for it."

"You asked me for it with no hesitation whatsoever."

"That's because it's you, and I know I could ask you for anything and you wouldn't think less of me for it.

"Right you are. I'm sweaty from my run and your food should be here soon, be out in a minute."

Punk finished showering and stepped out the bathroom in a towel. He was met with John sitting Indian style at the base of the bed, intently staring at the bathroom door he had just exited.

"You're infringing on my gimmick over there."

"I'm going to infringe on you in a second, lay down, on your back."

Punk obediently, for him, lay across the bed. Sprawled out that way, there was no way John could resist the temptation to take advantage of a pliable Punk, he wanted to lay claim to every part he could get his hands and tongue on. John grabbed a silver carafe from the room service cart. He stuck a finger into the liquid, sucking it off his fingers then leaning down to kiss Punk.

"Hmm, nice, blueberry."

John poured syrup into the gap under Punk's adam's apple, lapping the syrup up with tiny licks. Syrup was poured down the midline of his chest and kissed away just as quickly. No part of his body was spared the same treatment, sticky trails going all the way to his ankles.

John ran his hands down Punk's sticky thighs, "roll over."

Punk rolled over to his stomach immediately without any question, "Nothing to say, Phil?"

"I'm perfectly happy being treated like a breakfast buffet right now, thank you very much."

John ran his hand down the length of Punk's spine slowly, and then Punk felt a trickle of the still warm syrup where John's hand has just been. John's lips and tongue followed soon after. The same treatment was given to both his legs, syrup pooling in the crook of his knees, the area being sucked and bitten until there couldn't possibly be any more syrup in the area.

"I should have ordered you up from room service. You're more enticing than anything that came under a silver dish cover."

"I don't come cheap, you would have to start working weekends to afford me" Punk said breathily.

"Price is no option, and I'm glad you enjoyed being pounced on first thing in the morning, but I have to say that was mostly for me. Since I first laid eyes on you I've fantasized about putting my mouth all over every part of you."

"Was it worth the wait?"

"I could have done with a little less waiting, but I couldn't exactly volunteer to put my mouth and hands all over you when you were ambushing me in the ring on a daily basis."

"If you had offered maybe the beatings would have been reduced."

John kept lifting various body parts to his mouth, sucking off any trace of blueberry that had been left there. "I think we both need a shower."

Punk, who still seemed to be in a haze, just nodded his head slowly. John lifted him up and carried him into the shower. The amazing water pressure was wasted, John opting for additional tongue baths instead of the shower cleansing Punk's skin of the syrup.

After leaving the shower Punk walked into the bedroom, "Holy shit, I think someone's going to be leaving the maid a three figure tip."

John looked over Punk's shoulder observing the ransacking that had taken over the bed. Sheets and comforters were tossed everywhere with copious purple stains over everything.

"Want to go down to the beach; I don't think I want to see the maid's face when she discovers what we did to this room."

"I'm sure she's seen worse. Let's get changed."

They had changed into bathing suits and started to walk down to the beach.

"I hope you brought sunscreen Casper."

"Funny. I put some on in the hotel room."

They found two lounge chairs and settled in the sun. A waiter came up to them to get their drink order. Of course Punk ordered a Pepsi, but John hesitated. Punk asked the waiter to give them a few more minutes.

"You can drink if you want to you know. Just because I don't doesn't mean that everyone in a mile radius of me can't drink either."

"Okay." When the waiter returned John ordered a beer.

They baked in the sun for a while, dipping into the water to cool off occasionally. They were both interrupted from their drowsy state by a scream and footsteps running towards them.

"Oh My God. John Cena, this is so cool. Would you mind signing something for me? Dad, I need something for him to sign."

The child's dad walked up, handing the child a pen and what seemed to be the receipt from a parasailing ride.

The kid finally let his eyes trail next to John, noticing Punk for the first time. The kid's eyes narrowed like he was going to defend John against an attack from Punk at any moment.

"What are you doing here with him, you guys hate each other!"

John was dumbfounded and said nothing. Punk was going to have to save this situation.

He turned to look the kid in the eye, "Have you even gotten into a fight with a friend, maybe said some things or did some things you regret?"

"Yes."

"And did you eventually make up and become friends again?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's how it is with us. We made up and now we're friends."

"Really, friends, because my daddies say…"

"That's enough Tommy, let them enjoy their vacation."

"But dad, you guy's said they were totally…" and Tommy's voiced trailed off while his dad's were walking him further down the beach.

"Of all the hiding we've been doing, we get outed by one of your 8 yr. old fans who has apparently inherited flawless gaydar. Classic."

John Morrison and Melina walked up, John placing a sun lounger next to Punk that he had pulled up for Melina.

"You just missed the most awesome fan encounter in history. The kid just outed us, apparently due to his daddies that picked up the sexual tension through the airwaves."

The two guys took to the water, horsing around.

"Our men, they're like two hyperactive children." Melina looked out the side of her eye, and then reached up with her fingers to run them under Punk's jaw. She rubbed her fingers together trying to figure out the source of what was covering her fingers. She just laughed softly, and then ran her fingers down the condensation on Punk's drink, cleaning her fingers off.

"So, John Cena, kinky behind closed doors, huh?"

Punk was silent for a moment. He doubted John was sharing intimate details with Randy, and while Colt was accepting of his new relationship he didn't think the guy was looking for a play-by-play. Maybe Melina was the confidant he had been looking for, she was hilarious with a definite mean streak.

"He can be. That vanilla, sucky joke-telling, smile factory is just a cover, most of the time."

"Yeah and the rest of the time he can barely tear his eyes away from your ass."

"You seem to have been paying close attention."

"What else am I going to do? They barely put me in matches now, but I have to be on site anyway. It gets me through the night to watch my favorite soap opera unfold. In all seriousness, there is one thing that I would like to ask you about."

"Hmm?"

"It's about Christian. I see the way that he looks at you, and it's not the same way John does. He wants you and he doesn't seem to care about the repercussions."

"I don't understand it. We've been friends for years and this had never been an issue before I was with John."

"It was the perfect storm, Edge leaving, you seeming to be on the market. He saw a way to slither in and is trying to take advantage."

"I'm staying away from him now, he sort of crossed the line the other day but I'm afraid of what might happen if I shut him down completely. Who knows what he's figured out when it comes to me and John. He could sink our careers with a few whispers in the right ears."

"You can just come hang with me when John isn't around. I'm like a nuclear fallout; no one wants to get anywhere near me."

"You're really not the person that people say you are."

"No, I'm still exactly that person; I'm just behaving in public now."

"That's not a skill I think I'll ever be able to pick up."

"Oh look, here come our boys, tired out by romping like adolescents."

"I wanted to thank you, for listening. I don't really have anyone to talk with about these things except John, and that's difficult considering he's the topic of most of the conversations."

"I'm here for ya. And I do so love the dirty details, you and John, that's really hot."

"One of those girls are you?"

"Damn right I am, is there any innocence wafting off me, I don't think so."


	26. Chapter 26

They had dinner with John and Melina again on the patio of their hotel room because they had no idea what state their room would be in after the events of that morning. They hung out late into the evening, trying to stretch out the last hours of their time together as a normal couple.

John and Punk walked back slowly to their hotel room.

"You and Melina seemed pretty cozy."

"Yeah, she's a cool girl."

"You do realize that everyone hates her don't you?"

"And that means what to me? For the majority of my career in the WWE everyone hated me too, it keeps the losers off my radar. You should be happier about this new development. Melina is so scary that she'll frighten away all those guys that you say are vying for my attention."

"If she keeps Christian away from you I'll buy the woman a diamond."

They opened up their hotel room which was in pristine condition.

"I'm looking for an angry letter from the maid but I don't see anything. How much of a tip did you leave her anyway," Punk said going farther into the room to turn on the lamps.

"Enough."

"Oh My God."

"What?"

"Check the pillows."

"Uh, that's not chocolate."

"It most certainly is not. She must have found that lube that got lost in the sheets from last night. Our maid certainly has a twisted sense of humor," Punk said through laughter.

"Our maid is brilliant. She obviously feels that I have not corrupted you fully on this trip and is encouraging us to try harder."

"If you tried any harder to corrupt me I don't think I'd be in any state to perform tomorrow and I still smell like blueberries. Melina was intrigued by the spot of syrup she found under my jaw."

"Damn that woman, I was saving that spot for later."

"Tomorrow our little vacation is over and it's back to the grind."

"We still have a few hours of freedom left; let's make the most of it. We should move this to the shower. No matter what anyone says sand does not equal sexy and I'm sure you taste like sunscreen."

They stripped down and stepped into the shower after the water had warmed up, but neither man made any move to actually shower. Punk wrapped his arms around John's middle and cuddled against him, moving John's arms to surround him and laying his head on John's chest.

John brought one hand up to smooth back Punk's hair and caress that spot behind Punk's ear that John had identified as one of Punk's sweet spots. Punk just hummed lightly and nuzzled his head against John's chest.

"Phil, is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Everything is perfect. These past few days have been perfect. I don't want them to end."

"Whether we're alone or in a crowd full of people it doesn't mean I love you any less, even if I can't always show it."

John could feel Punk's breath catch in his throat.

"Do you really mean that? I can be moody and impulsive and mean to the point of actually being cruel. I've been absolutely vicious to you countless times, how can you love somebody like that?"

"I loved you when all I had to go on was those things you just mentioned. Well, that, and a pair of the sexiest legs I've ever seen."

Punk chuckled and nipped John lightly on the chest, rubbing his lips over the spot he had just bit before laying his head back on John's chest.

"We all have sides to our personalities that aren't the best but you're so much more than that. You're funny and brilliant and sweet in your own way. You want me for me, not just the person I play on TV. I've never been able to really be myself with another person and you give me that. All those things make me love you, and just so you know, now that I have you I have no intention of ever letting you get away from me."

John tilted back Punk's head until they were staring each other in the eyes. "I love you Phil, even with all the crazy things you do, it won't ever be enough to make me stop."

A lone tear slipped from Punk's eye and John chased it with his mouth.

"John, I love you too, more than I thought I could love someone else, you couldn't make me leave you now if you tried. You're so good, maybe too good for me, but I'm too selfish to let that get in my way."

John felt Punk's entire body sag against his. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Punk reached for the shower gel but John stilled his hand, "No, let me."

John and Punk began to thoroughly wash each other each getting more turned on as time passed. They finally emerged from the shower, toweling each other off and slipping between the covers.

The kisses started off light and chaste, gradually becoming deeper until they were rolling back and forth across the bed, kissing each other with abandon.

Punk stilled their motion by wrapping his legs around John's waist and holding his hips tightly between his thighs. Punk reached over, opening the drawer on the bedside table and pressed something into John's palm.

John looked down at what Punk had given him, a condom.

"I thought you wanted to wait?"

"I never said that. I thanked you for waiting until I was ready but I never said I wasn't. I want you to make love to me."

"Yes, Phil, yes, whatever you want."

Phil smiled brightly, "I do love it when you say that."

"You love to get your way and right now I'm more than happy to give it to you. Where did you put the lube the maid was so kind to leave for us?"

"No lube."

"Phil…"

"No lube, I want to feel this for days when we're surrounded by all those people and we have to pretend to be just friends. I just want one thing that I don't have to fake."

John kissed him lightly on the lips and opened the packet, rolling the condom on. He pushed Punk's knees apart and slowly slid into Punk. He felt Punk's nails bite into his biceps.

"Is it too much? We can…"

"All I want you to do is move. I love you, please…"

Punk wrapped his arms and legs around John pulling their bodies as close as possible and John began to move. He started thrusting shallow and slow, giving Punk time to adjust to the stretch. Punk's halting breaths gave way to moans and his hips began rolling against John's trying to create more friction.

John pulled out partway, lengthening his strokes but still holding back.

"You're not going to break me," Punk whined.

John took his cue from Punk and began thrusting forcefully, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in, their hips grinding together roughly. John knew he had found Punk's spot when his hips bucked wildly, his body squeezing around his cock. He made sure to keep that angle, his name now pouring out of Punk's mouth with every thrust.

John dipped his head down, slating their lips together, mimicking the motion of their bodies.

They kept up the fevered pace, neither wanting the moment to end.

"Phil…I can't…it's too much."

"Touch me John," Punk moaned sliding John's palm down between them. John began to stroke Punk swiftly while his hips began to stutter unevenly.

"John, so close…" and then Punk's body seized all around him, his channel gripping him so tightly he thought he was going to black out from the pleasure. He collapsed onto Punk, breathing erratically.

"That was amazing," Punk murmured against his neck.

"That doesn't even begin to describe it; you're going to have to find new words."

John began to pull out but Punk locked his ankles behind his back, keeping him in place. "Just stay…"

They remained that way for a few minutes, kissing each other softly. John's muscles began to lock up and he pulled out rolling next to Punk, pulling off the condom and tossing it in the general vicinity of the wastebasket.

John wrapped his arms around Punk, sprawling Punk's body across his, trying to create as much skin to skin contact as possible.

"We're all sticky now."

"I've never been so glad to be dirty in all my life," John said, his voice shaking slightly. He ducked his head behind Punk's ear, kissing softly that spot that he now considered his.

"I hope you know now that I'm never going to give you up. All those guys can look all they want but I know they'll never see you like this. This is all only just for me."

"I do love this possessive side of you."

"Does it make you hot?"

"Unbearably."

"Good. Because at this point I think it would be impossible for me to stop. Anymore condoms in that bedside drawer of yours?"

"There might be."

"Good thing, because I'm not done with you yet by a long shot."

_AN: I know it's a short chapter but what could you possibly follow that up with? Enjoy because I know I did!_


	27. Chapter 27

**September 2, 2011**

"Talked to the road agents yet," Punk asked, dressing next to John in the locker room.

"Not yet. Why?"

"The match scheduled is me vs. del Rio."

"If you're wrestling del Rio then who am I facing?"

"Whoever wins my match."

"So there's a 50/50 chance that it's going to be us facing off against each other?"

"That's not a problem is it? I mean we've wrestled each other before. It's not you and I that are the problem in this equation; it's the constant outside interference. I can't remember the last time we had a match that we saw through to the end without some random sticking their nose in where it doesn't belong. Well, I'm up in a few, we'll see how it goes," and Punk left for the ring.

20 minutes later Punk came stomping through the locker room door, sweaty and obviously pissed off.

"I take it that the match didn't go too well?" John asked gently.

"No it did not. That fool ring announcer distracted me and del Rio took advantage and pinned me. I would watch out for him if I were you or you'll be the next victim of his overzealous ring announcer."

"I'll keep my eyes open, I'll see you after the match," John said walking out the door. He turned around to see Punk following him. "Are you going to go out there as my valet?"

"No, jackass, I just wanted to wish you luck," Punk looked up and down the hall which was empty; he leaned over and gave John a kiss then ducked back into the locker room.

Punk had finished dressing and was gathering up his things when there was a loud banging on the locker room door, "Punk! Get your sweet ass out here!"

Punk just rolled his eyes, there weren't many, if any at all that would refer to him in those terms. Punk opened the door and Melina was standing there, hands on hips and foot tapping. "You take longer to get dressed than I do. Come on, John and I are gonna watch the match from the side entrance, coming with?"

Melina and Punk joined Morrison to watch John's match with del Rio. John seemed to have things pretty much in hand until Rodriguez grabbed a chair and hit John over the back with it in full sight of the official. Del Rio didn't seem the least put out that he had just been disqualified. He quickly took advantage of the situation and began laying into John.

Punk didn't know if John would take too kindly to him inserting himself into his match. He felt himself being simultaneously pushed and pulled by his shirt. He turned around to face John and Melina.

John was shaking his head, "Punk don't do it."

Melina was still pushing him, "Get your ass out there and defend your man!"

Punk made a split second decision and ran out to the ring, taking both Rodriguez and del Rio out with the GTS. He went to stand over John who was lying flat on his back in the ring. John looked up at him and smiled, "You're my hero."

"Oh get up you before I slap you silly." Punk started to walk to the ropes to exit the ring. He was immediately pulled back by his shirt. "What is it with everyone pushing me around today?"

John dragged him to his side in the ring, "Where are you going? Your adoring public awaits."

Punk played to the crowd as he had since his infamous promo over the summer. The crowds would go wild for him but it still felt like something that didn't quite make sense. He couldn't switch gears fast enough to go from being reviled to being cheered.

They both made their way backstage, John and Morrison continuing towards the locker room with Milena holding Punk back. She escorted him over to catering and sat him down out of hearing range of the roster members milling around.

"You looked especially glowy this morning," Melina said with a knowing smile.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course you do, destination sex is awesome."

"No comment."

"No comment, huh? Well you just answered all my questions then. And don't worry about not telling me the dirty details, my imagination works just fine, thank you very much."

**September 5, 2011**

"Why are you getting dressed so early, isn't your match not until the middle of the show?" John asked, sitting on the bench next to Punk while he was dressing.

"I'm not going out there to wrestle; I'm going out there to humiliate Nash and Triple H."

"I really miss our scheme free vacation right now."

"Just because my brain was fogged by sun and sex doesn't mean that I've forgotten that those two are plotting against me. Time to go have some fun."

"I'm fun."

"Not in the same way, unless you want me to kick you in the face for old times' sake?"

"I'll pass, see you later."

Punk walked out into the arena calling for a mic, sitting down in his customary position in the center of the ring, "I'm different, I don't have a filter between my brain and my mouth. Horrible things just fall out of my head all the time."

He started in on Kevin Nash, mocking him for being stuck in the 90's, making his case that even though Nash and Triple H had gotten into a little scuffle last week, it didn't mean that it all wasn't just an act. He invited Nash to come out to the ring and face him like a man since Triple H's ego had pulled rank and got his match against Nash at Night of Champions cancelled. He had about given up on Nash having any self-respect whatsoever until Nash's music hit.

Nash attempted to hold his own verbally with Punk but it was a losing proposition, the man just didn't have the chops to keep up with him.

Nash started to walk toward the ring until Triple H's music hit.

Nash tried to convince Triple H that Punk needed to be fired, but Triple H just walked past and stepped into the ring with Punk. Triple H announced that he had found out the truth. Punk was skeptical if Triple H even knew the meaning of the word.

Apparently, there was some footage from Summerslam that showed Kevin Nash sneaking into Triple H's office and texting himself from Triple H's phone. Not only did Triple H not show the footage to the WWE Universe but he was trying to pass off the most convoluted lie he had ever heard as the truth.

Kevin Nash texting himself? Please. Nash played along saying he had sent the text message to himself. This was the most nonsensical thing he ever heard.

Nash made sure to play his part perfectly, getting into Triple H's face. Punk just laid back in the ring watching the show.

Nash demanded that Triple H fire Punk. Then Triple H did something that actually surprised Punk. Was Triple H actually firing Kevin Nash? Nash continued to needle Triple H until he slammed a fist into Nash's face, knocking him to the mat.

Punk couldn't resist mocking Nash, pointing his finger and laughing and then he wished him luck in his future endeavors. The crowd was chanting goodbye, as happy to see Nash go as Punk was.

Punk hung out with John in the monitor bay until his match with R-Truth. Of course Truth was accompanied by Miz. Punk's patience was wearing thin. First Nash and Triple H and their schemes and now R-Truth and Miz with their conspiracies. He was going to need to go back to the hotel room and create a flow chart in order to make any sense of this.

Punk managed to put Truth away with the GTS even with interference from Miz. Just when he put one situation behind him another presented himself, here was Triple H making his way to the ring.

Triple H announced that he had changed their match at Night of Champions to a No DQ match. Punk couldn't help but add his own suggestion to the mix, that if Triple H lost he would have to resign as COO.

Punk walked back to the locker room where John was dressing and he looked pissed off.

"Oh what now," Punk threw up his hands exasperatedly.

"You've been busy with your own issues tonight I didn't want to bother you. Apparently, del Rio has been lobbying like half of Raw to attack me so that he doesn't have to deal with me himself."

"Need me to watch your back?"

"I think I've got it covered. Del Rio isn't the only one who can rally troops, you know. Speaking of, I have to go round up mine right now."

"These are competent people right?"

"Well Morrison's up for it so far."

"Try to actually get some bad assess behind you and not just a set of smiley faced do-gooders."

The locker room was full of wrestlers so John and Punk just nodded at each other as John left.

Punk changed into his street clothes and then walked toward the monitor bank. He could see Christian there and made an about face. He walked to the woman's locker room and started banging on the door, "Hey! Can Melina come out and play!"

There was a scuffle then Melina stuck her head out through a crack in the door. "Be right out." Melina came out a minute later, putting her hand around Punk's elbow, leading him toward the monitor bank. Once they got there Melina looked at the monitor and frowned. "Do you really care about watching Orton's match? We can mock him sure, but his mat pounding frenzies make it too easy. Wanna go for a walk?"

"Sure," they ended up in an unused hallway lined with packing crates that they perched on.

"Ready to tell me any dirty details yet?"

"You're going to be waiting a long time if you're waiting to hear those."

They sat around talking generally, mainly making fun of the rest of the roster.

"I'm gonna go get a drink, want something? Wait, what am I saying, Pepsi, right?"

"See, we're gonna be great friends."

Melina walked back down the hallway. Punk was playing on his phone when he heard footsteps, "That was fast."

"You must be talking about Melina because if there's any word to describe that woman it's fast," Christian said walking down the hallway towards him.

Punk jumped down off the crates as Christian stood across the hall from him.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're avoiding me?"

Punk didn't know how to answer that question without implicating himself so he just shrugged.

Christian took a step forward, "Does Morrison know you're parading around with his slutty, bitch of a girlfriend?"

"Melina and I are friends; don't talk about her that way in front of me unless you want to start something."

Christian took another step forward. Punk immediately backed up but he ran into the wall, there was no place to go.

"What are you doing? Aren't we friends? You look like you're afraid I'm about to jump you or something."

"From what I've heard it seems like you're for hire as far as jumping people are concerned."

"Oh you mean that thing with del Rio. I don't need much cajoling to inflict a little pain on Cena. I remember when you used to be that way too. Cena was #1 on your hit list and now, what are you, best buddies?"

"Leave John out of this."

"It's so sweet you're on a first name basis now, Phil."

"Don't call me that. You know I don't like the boys in the back calling me by my first name."

"The boys in the back? And here I thought we were friends."

"Just walk away Christian, I don't want to do this with you right now."

"See. I think it's the perfect time," before Punk could blink Christian had rushed forward, trapping Punk against the wall. Christian's face was moving towards his and Punk turned his head at the last moment so that Christian's mouth fell on his cheek. Punk raised his knee to jam it into Christian's side, but before he could Christian was flat on the ground.


	28. Chapter 28

Punk looked down and Christian was clutching his face, moaning and rolling around on the ground in a puddle of spreading liquid.

Christian reached out to grasp Punk's calf, "You touch him and you'll get the next one in the balls!"

Melina was standing in the hallway, a can of Pepsi in her hand being brandished like a weapon. Punk looked back down and saw a can of Coke spewing its contents on the floor. Melina had obviously thrown the can at Christian, hitting him square in the head.

"You are so dead," Melina screamed planting a kick to Christian's middle.

Punk's back began to slide down the wall until Melina grabbed him under the arms, hoisting him back up.

"Get yourself together, we are so out of here," Melina exclaimed, grabbing Punk by the hand and pulling him down the hallway towards the woman's locker room. Melina ran in and retrieved her things, then led Punk toward his locker room.

"Get your stuff, and if you take more than 10 seconds I'm coming in, I don't care whose modesty I'll be offending."

"But John, the show…"

"Our men can take care of themselves, hopefully, we're going back to the hotel." The two made the cab ride in silence, finally arriving at their destination.

"We're going to your room, what's the number?"

Punk just stood there mutely.

"Christ," then Milena started going through the pockets of Punk's shorts not caring that this was taking place in the middle of the lobby. She found the key card with the room number and escorted Punk to his room, pushing him through the door.

"Okay, we're here, you can do whatever you want now, scream, yell, throw things, toss the TV through the glass door onto the balcony…"

Punk looked at her blankly, and then went into the bathroom closing and locking the door behind him.

"That wasn't one of the choices."

* * *

><p>John began to walk his way to the curtain. He had kept an eye out for Punk to tell him that he had found a group of guys who were competent, in Punk's opinion, to have his back in case del Rio's guys came through for him and he found himself cornered in the ring, but Punk was nowhere to be found.<p>

John made his way out to the ring, the crowd split as usual. He started in again about how del Rio wouldn't face him. Rodriguez came out to announce del Rio's entrance into the arena. Del Rio entered in his rented vehicle, stepping out in a suit. Just because the man didn't have wrestling gear on wouldn't stop him from clocking him.

Apparently del Rio's backstage campaign had worked. Barrett, Swagger, Ziggler and Christian came to the ring and started quadruple teaming him. Even while being beaten down John thought that del Rio must be really scared of him if he needed to find 4 guys to take him on.

Right on cue, Riley, Sheamus, and Morrison came out to help him clean house in the ring. They managed to clear the ring, and then, inexplicably, Teddy Long came out. John wondered if he had sustained a head injury because he was pretty sure before the beat down he had been on Raw not Smackdown.

Apparently Teddy had been authorized by Triple H to make matches on Raw. It would be a 4 on 4 tag elimination match; John really couldn't find any fault with that idea. Del Rio's representatives didn't exactly look thrilled at the prospect.

Minutes into the match John had to admit that his team was not exactly in control of the situation. He was finally tagged in against Christian, close up he could tell that something was amiss. Christian looked as if he had already been in a match due to the swelled and bruised area on his temple. Christian was also not wrestling his usual style. The slaps to the face were nonexistent and he seemed almost tentative in the ring, as if he didn't want to anger John unnecessarily beyond the usual back and forth action of a match.

The match finally came down to him vs. Swagger and Ziggler, finally defeating them both. Of course, seconds after winning the match del Rio charged the ring trying to get the jump on him. He managed to land the AA on him, and then del Rio ran for the hills.

He walked back to the locker room, passing the monitor bay, but Punk wasn't there. When he got to the locker room he looked around again.

"He's not here," Morrison told him without even having to ask the question. It was odd that Punk wouldn't wait for him like he usually did.

John changed and then Morrison grabbed him, "Let's go get Melina, we can share a cab back to the hotel."

Morrison knocked on the woman's locker room door, but Beth stuck her head out saying that Melina had already left, "They must have cut out early together."

John went up to his and Punk's room. They had taken to sharing a room with separate beds so it at least looked like they were just friends splitting the cost of the room. He opened the door and Melina was sitting on one of the beds, staring at the bathroom door.

"What's going on?" John asked, but when Melina turned to face him he knew he was about to hear something that wasn't good. "Where's Punk?"

"In the shower."

"Not that I mind seeing you, but what are you doing here if Punk's in the shower, you're just staring at the door."

Melina moved her mouth as if to speak and then just planted her face in her palms.

"Okay, you're going to tell me what's going on."

"Punk's in the shower."

"I think we covered that."

"He's been in there for 45 minutes."

"Melina."

"I don't know if I should say, I don't think it's my place. Punk might not like it."

John went to the bathroom door, banging on it, "Phil, its John, come out." John waited for a few moments, with time passing it was clear that Punk had no intention of coming out.

"You're going to tell me what's going on and you're going to tell me now."

Milena remained silent for a minute, "It was Christian."

"Does this have anything to do with the huge bruise on his head?"

"It bruised, I'm glad, I wished it would have cracked his jackass skull open."

"What did he do!"

"Punk and I were hanging out. I went to get some drinks and when I came back Christian had him pinned against the wall in the hallway."

"Fucking hell," John yelled but looking at Melina he could tell there was more to the story.

"Tell me Melina."

"He tried to kiss him."

"I'm going to kill that bastard! At least Punk got a shot in."

"That wasn't Punk. I hummed a full can of Coke at him and clipped him in the temple, and then after he fell over I kicked him in the ribs while he was down."

"Thank you Melina, who knows what else Christian would have tried if you hadn't shown up."

They both looked to the bathroom door when they heard the shower cut off.

"I'm going to go back to my room now. John's probably worried about where I am. If Punk needs me tell him to call."

"Thanks again Melina."

Melina left the room and about a minute later the door to the bathroom opened, Punk stepping out, skin a blazing red. John rushed to Punk, wrapping his arms around him. He noticed that Punk did not hug him back.

"Did Melina tell you what happened?"

"I didn't really give her a choice."

Punk just nodded, walking over to the bed and lying over the foot of the bed.

John lay behind him, wrapping his arms around Punk's middle, but Punk scooted almost to the edge of the bed, putting a few inches between them.

"You didn't do anything wrong. It was all that bastard."

"Didn't I do something wrong? Wasn't I the one the defended him time and time again."

"You thought he was your friend, how could you know what was really going on in his head."

"I don't know how you can even touch me. I can still feel his hands and lips all over me."

"You didn't ask for any of it to happen and I don't blame you in the slightest. Phil, I love you. Nothing that asshole did is going to change that."

Punk flipped over slowly to face John, "Really?"

"Phil, nothing is going to change how I feel about you," John leaned forward and kissed Punk. His lips were still for a moment and then he kissed John back. They kissed chastely for a few minutes until John turned onto his back, pulling his cellphone out his pocket.

"Who are you calling?"

"Hunter."

"What!"

"He's COO, he needs to know that one of his employees is running around sexually assaulting people."

"You can't do that. Why would you even think he would care?"

"You two may be having your issues but this is bigger than that."

"John, I'm begging you, do not make that phone call."

John hesitated. "Fine. I won't."

"Promise me."

"I promise I will not call Hunter."

"And could you not call him that. I'm facing the man at Night of Champions; he's not someone I want to be on a first name basis with."

"I know you're feeling better now, back to trying to foil Triple H's schemes."

They stripped down and lay spooned beneath the covers together. It took almost an hour before Punk finally fell asleep.

John waited another half hour before getting up, pulling his cell phone out of his pants and walking out onto the balcony. He waited while the phone rang on the other end.

"John, this better be fucking important, it's the middle of the night."

"Randy, something happened."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, it's Punk."

"What about him?"

"Christian tried to force himself on Punk last night during the show."

"Fucking hell."

"He won't let me call Hunter and all I want to do is find Christian and kill him for daring to put his hands on Phil."

"Unless you plan to knock on every door in the hallway in the middle of the night until he answers the door I think you're going to have to put that urge on hold. On the upside, considering our employment, the opportunity to knock his teeth out will probably present itself fairly soon."

"Actually, Melina already got in a few choice hits."

"Melina? That woman just went up a few points in my book."

"Randy, I need some advice here. What do I do that doesn't involve me committing a crime?"

"Wait, hold on. I have an idea."

Randy came back on the line a few moments later. "Put this number in your phone."

"Whose number is this? An assassin, a good lawyer?"

"Even better, just call it and hopefully your Christian problems will evaporate."

"You're being awfully mysterious Randy."

"I'm not trying to be. If I tell you whose number it is you won't call, and trust me when I tell you that you need to make that phone call."

"Fine. We'll be keeping all this between us won't we?"

"Besides giving Melina a pat on the back, I won't tell a soul."

"Thanks Randy."

"Get back to your boy before he wakes up and finds you having secretive phone calls you can't explain."


	29. Chapter 29

**September 6, 2011**

John woke to the alarm on Punk's phone. He leaned over to wake Punk up.

"What! Oh My God could you shut that off!"

"It's your phone."

"Oh, right. Wait, I didn't set it for this time, it's like an hour early."

"Yeah, I changed the time while you were sleeping."

"Why would you do a thing like that?"

"So we had a little time before we had to leave for the airport."

"Time for what?" Punk asked but John had already rolled over on top of him, slotting their hips together, their morning erections nestled between their bodies.

"Oh, that. Brilliant idea," Punk lifted his head up, kissing John thoroughly. "Do you have…"

Punk didn't even finish his sentence; John was already reaching toward the bedside table, grabbing a condom that he had put there the night before when he had changed Punk's alarm.

"You really did plan this out fully didn't you? You're such a boy scout."

"I don't think they give out patches for this."

"They should, being prepared for every eventuality, even one such as this, is an important skill to have."

"Shut up. More kissing, less talking," John murmured against his mouth while tearing open the wrapper and sliding the condom on. He would have preferred to prepare Punk a little or at least to use lube, but he remembered their first time and Punk seemed to prefer having a physical memento when they were going to be apart.

John slid inside Punk, the tightness and heat almost making his eyes cross.

Punk nudged John's ass with his feet, "Move, you're killing me."

"Give me a second. If I move this is going to be over embarrassingly quickly and maybe I want to enjoy just being inside you, it's quickly becoming my favorite place to be in the world."

"Good to know. I'm pretty fond of you being there too," Punk rolled his hips against John's.

John anchored Punk's hips to the bed with his hands, "What did I say?"

"Yes, Phil, yes, whatever you say."

"I'm pretty sure that wasn't it."

"You were getting to it I'm sure. I want what I want and I want it now, aren't you going to give it to me?" Punk asked, fluttering his lashes with exaggeration.

"You're a minx, is what you are."

"Come on John, please," Punk's breath caught in his throat as John pulled all the way out and slammed back in. "Yes, exactly like that."

"Quick and dirty it is," John began to thrust furiously, reaching down to stroke Punk in time with the movement of his hips.

Both men came quickly and John collapsed on Punk.

"I had really planned on something more slow and romantic."

Punk reached over and grabbed his phone, "There's still 40 minutes left in your stolen hour. How about I let you fuck me against the wall of the shower."

John responded by grabbing another condom, picking Punk up, who was still wrapped around him, and walked directly to the shower.

After drying off, both men were lying on the bed, still unclothed. Punk rolled on top of John, sitting up straddling John's hips. "Listen…"

"You're naked in my lap and you want to talk? I'm not sure my brain is capable of processing anything beyond some of my wildest fantasies running through my head."

Punk made to move off John to his side.

"No, wait, don't move, I'll listen real hard, I promise."

"You haven't been with anyone before me in a while right?"

"Yeah, about a year."

"Really?"

"I was kinda preoccupied with your luscious ass at the time."

"Good answer. Well, I haven't either and we're both tested constantly for diseases right?"

"Right."

"So I say, next time, no condoms."

"It's almost time to pack and go to the airport, you're sprawled naked in my lap and you want to talk about taking you bare. I should have set the alarm for earlier."

"It'll give you something to think about for when the next time we see each other," Punk said while lightly rolling his hips against John's.

"You keep that up and you're going to end flat on your back with both of us missing our flights."

"I'll be good," Punk said climbing off the bed and making his way to his suitcase.

"That was not the response I was hoping for."

"Behave yourself and I'll get you off over the phone while you're in Tampa."

"I think I'd rather be gotten off now."

"Oh, look, there went my offer of dirty talk to pass the time we're apart, right out the window."

"Yeah right, sex is addictive."

"My only addiction is…"

"Competition, yes, I know, but I think you're going to find yourself adding John Cena to that list."

"That would require me to reevaluate my values and principles, I'll think about it."

"You do that. Now get dressed before I tie you to the bed."

"Kinky."

"Dress. Now."

"Oh, orders, even kinkier."

John walked over to Punk, smacking him on the ass forcefully.

"You, clothes, now, before I lose all self-restraint."

Both men dressed and packed quickly without any further incident. They were walking towards the door when John dropped the handle of his suitcase, ripping Punk's from his hand, and backing them both against the door.

"Something for the road," and he took Punk's head in his hands, kissing him passionately.

They separated after a minute, "while we're away from each other, just remember that I love you."

"I love you too. Let's get out of here before I decide to follow you home."

They finally made it to the airport and through security, where they had to separate to go to their respective gates.

"I could always just go back to Chicago with you, change my flight."

"We both haven't seen our families in months. And while my family is perfectly fine with my sexual preferences, I don't think they're prepared enough to see me walk in the door hand in hand with John Cena."

"We'll get there eventually, see you in Canada, love you."

"Love you too," and Punk walked away toward his gate.

John turned in the opposite direction to find his gate. Walking up to the seating area he saw the back of someone's head that he knew quite well, most probably because he had the urge to bash it in.

He walked up behind the man, placing his hands on the man's neck muscles and squeezing as tightly as he could, "Christian, just the person I wanted to see."

Christian flinched as much as he could while John was gripping his neck painfully.

"We're in an airport and I don't want to get myself on some air travel black list for beating the shit out of you, but know that at some point you're going to get what's coming to you. I'm not gonna corner you in some dark hallway in an arena, I'm not going to sucker punch you, you'll see me when I'm coming and you're going to deserve everything you fucking get."

John walked to the gate which was already boarding first class and he found his seat. Luckily, Christian wasn't seated in first class or there would have been an incident at 30,000 feet.

John finally walked through the front door of his house and dropping his things haphazardly. He immediately reached into his pocket, pulling out his cell phone, which had been burning a hole in his pocket ever since Randy had given him that phone number. He was pretty wary about the whole situation but he connected the call anyway.

"Hello."

"Who is this?"

"Dumbass, you called me. I'm hanging up…"

"Wait, its John."

"John who?"

"John Cena," he said hesitantly.

"How did you get this number?"

"Who is this, really?"

"It's Adam."

"Adam Copeland?"

"Duh. How did you get this number?"

"Randy gave it to me."

"That boy needs to clean out his contacts. So, if you didn't know who you were calling, why did you call?"

"I'm having a problem."

"A Christian-related problem?"

"Yeah, did he tell you something…"

"No, he didn't, but for the past few months I get the Christian-related problem phone call about every other day. What did he do now?"

"He's been making some unwanted advances toward a friend."

"Just tell him to stop. I wish all these phone calls were this easy."

"Okay, I'm trying to say this without saying the whole truth but I see that isn't possible. Christian sexually assaulted someone."

There was silence on the other end on the phone.

"Adam, you there?"

"I'm here, I just can't believe…you know what, I don't know what to believe anymore when it comes to him. He's gone completely mental. Who was it?"

"I would rather not say."

"No, you will say."

"A friend."

"Listen, I'm going to help you out here, but before I go wrecking one of my longest standing friendships I want to know who he assaulted."

"You can never say this to anyone, you understand. I wouldn't even tell you but I think if anyone can get this situation under control it's you. It was Punk."

"CM Punk?"

"Is there another Punk running around I don't know about?

"You said it was a friend."

"Yes."

"You and Punk, you're friends…"

"I know, you think it's strange."

"No, not strange, actually, I think it's kind of cute. In fact…" and Adam fell silent again. "No way! No fucking way!"

"What?"

"No way would Randy give you this number without telling you who it was and no way would you call said number for someone who is 'just' a friend."

"Adam, I think the time off is getting to you. I think the early stages of dementia are setting in."

"You don't have to confirm it for me, I know it's true. Come on, I'm the president of the illicit WWE relationship club."

"Those relationships were also very public, not something that I'm in to. Listen, thank you for helping out with the Christian thing. I'm not saying that I'm not going to clock him the next time I see him because I am, but if you could at least just get him to stay as far away from Punk as possible I would be truly grateful."

"Grateful enough to give me confirmation on you and Punk's relationship status?"

"No."

"Whatever, I'll let you know how it goes. Goodbye, Mrs. Punk."


	30. Chapter 30

"I hate your hair."

"Well hello to you too, Mom. Yes, my flight in was fine and I'm home safe."

"You look like a hobo Phillip."

"Have you been watching the show? You're not the first person to come up with that comparison. You didn't like it blonde, you didn't like it long, and you don't like it like this, what exactly would you like to see?"

"Can't you just get it cut short, like some of those nice boys on the show, but not that spiky-haired weirdo with the camera."

"You mean Zack, and I am here to tell you that will never ever occur."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Sit down Phillip," Punk automatically took a seat across from his mom.

"If only the world could see how well-behaved you are."

"My career would wither and die if it got out that the only person I listen to is my mom."

"We haven't talked much since you went back to work after your little vacation. I watch the show sometimes but I get bored waiting around for you to show up, and when you do I'm convinced I've raised the biggest smart ass in the world. I'm so proud."

"You should be."

"So work? Is it any better this time around."

"It has its ups and downs."

"I assume the down parts include that burly blonde guy."

"You assume rightly, see, you're paying more attention than you thought."

"You seem a lot happier on TV than you did before you briefly left. I even see your teeth sometimes."

"There are contributing factors that are improving my overall work environment."

"I'm sure there are. So who is it?"

"Who's what?"

"The person you're seeing."

"What makes you say that?"

"I know you've been in Chicago and you didn't bother to call or visit your poor put-upon mother and when you're not home you've obviously been spending time somewhere else, with someone new I'm guessing. You always did fall hard and quick. Let's see, is it that tall schizophrenic one with all the tattoos?"

"Eeew, no way! I assume you're referring to Randy Orton who is a happily married man."

"Okay, is it that scary blonde girl who looks like she could break you in half?"

"You're either referring to Beth or Natalya, and no to both of them."

"Give your mother a break, man or woman?"

"Man."

"Is it that tall English one with the tattoos?"

"Barrett, and no, he's a complete jerk, you know I hate that guy. Where are you getting these ideas from?"

"Sweetheart, you have a type. Tall, muscular, tattooed within an inch of their lives that turn out to be jerks. I don't know why you can't date one of those nice boys that you could bring home to meet your dear mother."

"Is this conversation still going on? Next topic."

"No, dear, I like this topic. I wish you would bring home that sweet boy, the cute one with the crew cut and the dimples. He's so wholesome and nice to the kids. Oh, I know, he's not your type, but he's a mother's dream."

Punk remained silent.

"No comment, eh? I think I'm onto something here. Are you going against type for once and dating a nice boy? Is it that short, young one that does that flip thing?"

"His name is Evan, and while I think he may have a bit of a crush on me, we are not dating."

"I don't watch the show enough to keep this going. Give your mother a break and just tell me."

"I'm dating John Cena."

"Which one is he again?"

"The one you were referring to earlier, the one you'd like me to bring home to meet you?"

"Not the sweetheart with the dimples. How did you manage to get that nice man to go out with you? I wouldn't think you were his type."

"Excuse me?"

"You may be my son but you have to admit you're a little scruffy."

"Aw thanks mom, you're so sweet to your loving son. I'll have you know he pursued me. So there!"

"Is it serious?"

"Very."

"Then you have to bring him to home to meet me. I wouldn't mind seeing him up close."

"Mom, he's my boyfriend!"

"Boyfriend huh? I've never heard that word pass your lips before. It must be exceptionally serious then."

"Can't you be like a regular mom and feed me or something?"

"I was getting to that brat."

"If my fans knew I got my smart mouth from my mother my career would never recover."

* * *

><p>John's phone started ringing and the caller ID said 'Adam.'<p>

"John."

"Adam."

"So I went over to Christian's after we talked."

"And."

"I'm sorry to say that things got a little physical."

"I only asked you to talk to him; I didn't want you coming to blows with your best friend."

"Well that's what it took to get it through his thick skull. I don't think the whining and complaining are going to be ending anytime soon, but he did promise to stay away from Punk."

"He understands what he did was reprehensible."

"I didn't say that."

"What the hell."

"I made him promise me to leave Punk alone. I can't change the destructive path he seems to be on, but he's going to stay away because I asked him to. The bruises will fade by the time he's on TV again, no harm no foul, but I did see then welt Punk must have landed on his head."

"Oh that wasn't Punk."

"I thought you said you hadn't hit him."

"It wasn't me that was all Melina."

"Christian got his ass handed to him by a girl? I retire and the entire WWE goes loco?"

"Yup, even in the absence of your crazy ways, we've been able to fill the void with yet more crazy. I really want to thank you for what you've done. It really means a lot to me to know that Punk won't have to deal with Christian again unless work forces the situation. And I know it must have been hard for you too, so thank you."

"If Christian steps one toe out of line let me know. Promises between Christian and I mean something and if he violates that then I guess we'll just have to go from there. Night, John.

"Night."

* * *

><p>"So, my mom wants you to come to Chicago and meet her."<p>

"Huh?"

"Yeah, she figured out I was seeing someone, then requested I bring a nice boy home for once. She specifically requested the wholesome one with the crew cut and the dimples. Plus, I think she wants to ogle your body from up close."

"Sounds like you and your mother have a lot of personality traits in common."

"You have no idea."

"How's Tampa?"

"Tedious. I'm flying out tomorrow morning to Boston to have the big, Italian family get together."

"Sounds crowded. So, how about that phone sex because I don't think I can talk dirty to you knowing you're in your parent's house a few doors down from them."

"As awesome as that sounds we have to talk."

"Sounds serious."

"It is. Let me preface this by saying that Christian won't be bothering you anymore."

"And how did you manage that one?"

"I threatened to throw him out the emergency door at 30,000 feet."

"Really?"

"Not really, we were on the same flight though. I did put him on notice that he and I were going to be having it out next time I see him."

"So, he was so threatened that he agreed never to come near me again."

"No."

"Stop beating around the bush and just come out with it."

"I talked to Adam."

"Copeland!"

"Yeah, he made Christian promise never to come near you again."

"What did you tell him?"

"Enough."

"Goddammit, John. Why don't you just go out to the ring next Monday and tell everyone."

"Phil, you have to see that this was the only way."

"See that, why do I have to see that."

"I was just trying to protect you; I just want you to be safe, to feel safe and not be looking around every freaking corner expecting to be ambushed."

"Right now all I feel is betrayed, by you."

"Phil, please, you have to listen to me…"

"I did listen, and in case you haven't noticed what I heard pissed me the fuck off."

"Phil, please, I love you…"

"Well right in this moment I wish I didn't love you, Goodbye John."

The phone went dead.

The phone dropped from John's hand and he collapsed on his bed. He knew calling Phil back was useless. When he got this angry nothing could reach him.

This morning he had everything he could have ever wanted. It was a perfect morning that he hoped could be repeated, every day for the rest of his life if he was lucky. Now all he had was an empty bed in an empty house with a boyfriend thousands of miles away who had just broken his heart.

He realized that Phil had said that he wished he didn't love him, not that he didn't but that didn't lessen the hurt at this very moment.

The worst part of all was that John knew what he had done was the right thing.

_AN: I know I do love the drama, that's why this fic was marked angst. I'm on a bit of an updating tear, probably in preperation for the weekend when I will find myself to lazy even to type. Thank you again to all my reviewers, you guys rock!_


	31. Chapter 31

**September 7, 2011**

John was sitting, surrounded by his family, but he just couldn't seem to enjoy himself the way he usually would. He had tried to call Punk that morning, but he was apparently still angry and ignoring his calls.

His family seemed to sense that something was off with him as well but John couldn't explain it.

He had come out to his family years ago, and while not exactly pleased that he wouldn't be settling down with a nice girl and popping out a few grandchildren, they hadn't disowned him either. It was just something they didn't talk about.

So to explain to his family that he was depressed because his boyfriend wouldn't have anything to do with him was out of the question.

That night he found himself alone in his childhood room trying to get some sleep before his flight to Canada in the morning. He had set his ringer as loud as it would go in case Punk called at any hour of the night.

He picked up his phone and began scrolling through the photos. There were fairly tame ones of him and Punk in Puerto Rico and other shots of them taken randomly. There had once been some rather risqué photos on his phone as well, but he had transferred them to his eBooks folder on his laptop and password protected them. The last thing he needed was to lose his phone and have those particular shots plastered all over the internet.

He was half-asleep when his phone rang. He flew to the other side of the bed and grabbed his phone and couldn't believe the screen when it informed him that Phil was calling.

"Did I wake you?"

"Who cares."

"I just wanted to say that I love you."

"Phil, please…"

"Just tell me you love me back."

"Phil, I love you…" and the phone disconnected. He tried calling back but Phil would not answer his calls.

**September 8, 2011**

The flight from Boston to Ontario seemed to take forever. He knew once he got to his destination he would see Phil. They had reserved their usual room together and had agreed to fly in the night before instead of the day of the house show so that they could spend the night together.

When he checked in he found that Punk had not yet arrived. He waited up half the night but Punk never showed.

The phone finally rang around 2 in the morning.

"Where are you?"

"I decided to take a morning flight. It's taking off in a few hours."

"Phil…"

"Listen, we can talk when I get there, okay?"

"Okay. I love you."

"Love you too."

**September 9, 2011**

John hurried to the locker room at the house show. He went through the doors and quickly searched the room but Punk was not there.

Morrison just shrugged his shoulders when John fixed his gaze on him. John quickly changed and sought out a road agent.

"Oh, there you are. You're scheduled in the main event against del Rio."

"I could care less. Do you know where CM Punk is?"

"Yeah, his plane had mechanical difficulties and they had to make an emergency landing in Detroit. The office told him he could miss the Canada house shows as long as he's in Ottawa for Raw."

John rushed away and found a quiet corner to call Punk. He didn't know what he was going to do if Punk didn't answer his call. The call connected immediately.

"John."

"Phil, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, just stuck in Detroit right now."

"Phil, I don't know what I would do if something happened to you. Listen…"

"John, I can't stay on for long. My charger is in my luggage and my luggage is who knows where. I'm waiting for them to call me back and can't let my phone die. We'll talk when I get to Ottawa, this is a conversation best saved for face to face, right."

"I don't care if we have this conversation with two cans and a piece of string; I just want to see you."

"You will, in Ottawa. I really have to go now."

"I love you and I'm glad you're okay."

"I love you too," and Punk's phone cut off.

John returned his cell phone to the locker room and joined the guys milling around the backstage area. His match with del Rio followed what was becoming typical of the pretentious man. Rodriguez would interfere, get del Rio disqualified and then they would both double team him until he found an opening and put them both away.

**September 11, 2011**

John trudged back to the locker room after his match. 3 house shows and 3 incidences of interference. He supposed he should be frustrated at his current situation but he just couldn't bring himself to care. He knew he should feel bad about not really caring about his matches and not giving his all for the fans that had shown up to see him but he was physically and mentally exhausted.

He was useless without Punk by his side and he was pretty sure that his co-workers had caught on to that fact. He and Punk had been connected at the hip for a while now and without him there he knew he wasn't behaving like the John Cena they were used to. He felt like he hadn't smiled in over a week.

He boarded the bus with the rest of the roster for the trip to Ottawa. He took a seat near the back and none of the guys took the seat next to him. As the hours rolled by he became more and more agitated. His knee was bouncing continuously and kept checking his watch what seemed like every five minutes.

They finally arrived at the hotel and John pretty much pushed his co-worker's to the side so that he could check in first. He tapped his fingers impatiently against the counter, waiting for the attendant to give him his key.

"Here you are, room 447, Mr. Brooks has already checked in."

John snatched the key from her hand and practically ran to the elevators. He pushed the up button but none of the elevator doors opened. He considered taking the stairs but with his suitcase it would probably take longer than waiting for the elevators.

He finally got to the room but hesitated before sliding his card into the lock. He didn't know if when he opened the door Punk would come flying into his arms or punch him in the eye.

In the end Punk did neither. Punk was laying on his side on the bed, on top the covers facing away from the door.

"Phil…" but Punk didn't respond, he must be asleep. John toed off his shoes and climbed in bed behind Punk, wrapping his arm around Punk's middle, nuzzling his face into Punk's neck. All of a sudden his exhaustion caught up with him and he fell asleep almost instantly.

John felt himself being shaken awake, "John, wake up."

He opened his eyes and Punk's face was inches away from his. At that moment he didn't care that they were barely speaking or that they hadn't seen each other in a week, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Punk's. At the first touch he moaned low in his throat, his hands reaching up to hold Punk's head, keeping their mouths fused together. He eventually broke contact and moved backward a bit so that he could see Punk's face.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself, I just missed you so much."

"Did it seem like I was resisting and I missed you too."

"Next time I don't care if you scream, throw things, or kick the hat off my head, just don't shut me out again. I'd rather you be here hating me than off somewhere where I can't even see you."

"I'm so sorry."

"Not that I'm not glad to hear that, but sorry about what exactly."

"Sorry that I stayed away, sorry about acting like a petulant child. I have to be honest and say that I wasn't sorry about what we fought about until I got here this afternoon."

"You're still mad then?"

"Not anymore. When I arrived and got on the elevator Christian was already inside. When he saw me he got off the elevator. He's actually going to leave me alone. Maybe I wasn't happy about what you did but it actually worked. Just because we're together doesn't mean that we're always going to agree about the way we behave. I know you don't really approve of the way I conduct myself in the ring but you don't say anything. I know we can't keep this a secret forever, and maybe I'm selfish for saying this but I'm finally getting to the place I've been trying to get for years in the WWE. I know if people found out about us they would just say that I'm riding your coattails, that everything I've accomplished or will accomplish will be because I'm with you. I hope you can understand that."

"I do. Haven't I already shown that I'd do anything to get you what you want? I handed McMahon the title just so he would reinstate you so that you could have your title match. I would do anything to make you happy and that includes using whatever backstage stroke I have to get you the things you want."

"This relationship makes us both dishonest and I know you hate that above all things but it's the way it has to be."

"I know that. I promise you I won't tell anyone else unless I run it by you first."

"That's all I'm asking for."

"I suppose this is the part where we have make-up sex but honestly I'm so emotionally and physically exhausted I just want to sleep, preferably with as must skin to skin contact as possible."

"That I can do."

John felt Punk shimmying out of his clothes and John followed suit. They both slipped under the covers and their bodies naturally gravitated toward each other. They were asleep in minutes.

**September 12, 2011**

Both men entered the locker room and chose spaces next to each other. They were somewhat subdued after the conversation last night, but Punk felt like they had taken another step toward having a much more serious relationship which suited him just fine. It was John's current mood that he was worried about. The second they had walked into the arena John had become agitated. He seemed hyperaware of everything going on around him and his hands were restlessly twitching next to his sides.

He heard the locker room door open and out of the corner of his eye he saw John vault over the bench and in seconds the locker room had erupted in chaos. The entire roster was clumped together near the door and Punk was forced to stand on top of the bench to see what had occurred.

He could see John crouched over someone on the floor, fists flying everywhere. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that it was probably Christian being pummeled by John. Eventually the roster pulled John off Christian who was lying on the ground cradling his face in one hand and his arm wrapped around his middle.

The locker room door slammed open and Triple H walked in, "What the hell is going on here?"

He looked at Christian lying on the floor and then at John, who was still struggling even though being restrained by half the roster.

Triple H stuck his head into the hallway, "Bring Christian to my office."

Two guys helped Christian up and escorted him out of the room. Triple H turned to John, "Don't you think about going anywhere, you're next."

"I'm looking forward to it," and John jerked his shoulders until he was let go and he nonchalantly walked back to his locker.

"Jesus Christ John."

"What, he knew goddamn well that I was going to get to him eventually. Later on in the show he might have found some people stupid enough to watch his back. I saw my chance and I took it."

"Don't you think he might be a little less likely to follow through on his promise after that?"

"Not unless he wants to face the wrath of Edge and if he does break his promise I'm going to be back on him every chance I get."

Punk leaned closer to John so no one could hear them over the din of the heightened volume of conversation resulting from what had just occurred.

"Even though I don't want to be cast as some damsel in distress, that was pretty hot."

"I'd say let's go find a supply closet somewhere but I have a date with the COO."

A while later a backstage tech came into the locker room, "John, Triple H would like to see you in his office."

John walked into the office and took a seat across from Triple H.

"Is it too much to hope for that you're going to be a little more forthcoming than Christian?"

"Yes, that is too much to hope for."

"Listen, I know better than anyone how heightened emotions can get around here. Sometimes the action spills out of the ring and into the locker room. You're not the first, nor the last to get into a fight backstage. I'm just a little confused as to the target. If you had clocked del Rio I would understand but you and Christian aren't engaged in any professional conflict that I know of."

"It wasn't professional. It was completely personal."

"I'm not stupid enough to think that you're going to tell me what your reasoning was. I sent Christian home for the night. We film in HD for Christ's sake, not even make up could cover the bruises. He might have to sit out Smackdown as well. If he wasn't such an asshole or was more central to the going on's on Smackdown this might be a different conversation. Can you at least promise me you won't do that again?"

"I won't promise that. Are we done here," John stood up to leave but Triple H waved him back down to his seat.

"I know we're not best buddies or anything but I like to think that we at least respect each other."

John just shrugged noncommittally. A few months ago he might have instantly agreed with that statement, but he knew what Triple H had pulled on Punk when he returned to the company and the lies that had followed. Triple H had fallen far in his estimation.

"I may have the day to day operations of Raw foremost in my mind these days but don't think that I don't see what's going on. I see who you surround yourself with these days, Punk, Morrison, Melina. None of them are going to be voted employee of the month anytime soon. You've been more volatile since you started hanging around with them."

"Maybe so. Or maybe I'm just tired of people walking all over me without repercussions just because I happen to be a nice guy. Del Rio won't face me on Raw and every house show we've fought at has ended with his ring announcer getting him disqualified and I don't see him getting any flak from you for acting like a complete coward and disgracing the Championship left and right."

"Not that I want to reward you for beating one of your co-worker's bloody, but I agree about del Rio. How about I see if I can set something up for tonight. Bret Hart is here and I've already had an earful from him about the exact things about del Rio that you were just talking about."

"Considering what's happened tonight I'll just say thank you and not take up anymore of your time."

"One more thing, in your current mood I hope you can restrain yourself for the rest of the night. I have a few things I need to say to Punk and I don't need you getting involved if things get out of hand with your friend."

"Punk can take care of himself when it comes to you."

"Yeah, I'm starting to come around to that opinion as well. When I came back as the COO I thought I would be strolling about in this monkey suit setting matches and being bored out of my skull. Now I'm going back into the ring in a week after barely wrestling the past year. At least the little shit keeps things interesting. I'm sure it's too much to ask that maybe he'll be a little more cordial tonight since I'm going easy on you."

"No, he'll probably be worse just to spite you."

_AN: Last night I was in a weird headspace and almost plunged one of our boys into extreme physical peril. I'm sure you'll see the place where things could have gone completely off the rails. Luckily I got distracted by PBS and woke up not so keen to try to kill off Punk. Reviews are like my crack and inspired me to do a Saturday update instead of lazing about the house which is my usual weekend operating procedure._


	32. Chapter 32

John returned to the locker room.

"Do I have to save you from being suspended indefinitely now?"

"Nope. I'm sure if Christian was more liked around here it would be a different story but no one really cares that I took a few swings at that asshole. Guess what else I heard?"

"What?"

"Bret Hart is here."

"No way. See ya, I'm going stalk the hallways until I find him."

"Don't you think the "best there is, best there was, best there ever will be" might take offense at being fangirled by the "best in the world."

"Bret Hart is a mature adult unlike Jericho who can't stop complaining over Twitter about how everyone is stealing his stuff. You can't ditch the WWE to be a, and I mean this in the most sarcastic way possible, 'rock star', and then complain when other people start encroaching on your territory. I'm off to track him down," Punk said, leaving the locker room.

John finished getting ready and went to the monitor bank to watch the show. Punk showed up a few minutes before the show was to start.

"No luck?"

"None. They're probably keeping him segregated from the idiot children around here."

The show started and John tensed up while Punk was mortally offended, "They have Bret Hart in the building and they open the show with del Rio. What moron is running this show, wait, I already know, Triple H. You don't seem your usual 'del Rio is a tool' self today."

"I'm so tired of his cowardice that I can't even bring myself to care what he says anymore. I'll get him in the ring at Night of Champions and that will just have to be enough."

Both men watched the show with a limited attention span. Punk amused himself by rearranging his kick pads while John was mesmerized by the tattoo behind Punk's ear and how much he would like to put his mouth there.

Punk eventually stopped fidgeting and looked up at John. He met his heated gave for a few moments before shaking his head to clear it and elbowing John in the ribs.

"What the hell?"

"You need to stop staring at me like you'd like to take a bite."

"Maybe I would, let's get out of here."

"Don't you think it's a little early in the show for that, we don't even know what we're booked for, and you haven't been paying the least attention, even though what's going on out in the ring directly affects you."

"Oh what could del Rio say that I haven't heard 50 times before?"

All of a sudden Punk's ears perked up and he whipped around to stare at the screen. "Bret Hart is going out there to confront del Rio, this is going to rock!"

"Okay, Bret Hart is basically saying the same things I say every week but it all sounds much more degrading when he says it."

"That's because he's the Excellence of Execution and you used to rap on the way to the ring and wear a lock around your neck. You're like the white Flavor Flav."

"We are never having sex again, just so you know."

"That wasn't convincing in the slightest. You should go out there."

"What?"

"Go out there; join Bret Hart in crushing del Rio."

"You want me to go out there and interrupt Bret Hart? I mean I know the guy and everything but I don't think he'd appreciate me busting in on his promo."

"You're going, stop your complaining." Punk grabbed him by the arm and started pulling him towards the arena entrance.

"You do realize I can stop this at any time right?"

"Hey, there's no need to hold your physical superiority over my head, that's just mean," Punk looked over John's shoulder and his eyes lit up and he started waving frantically. Morrison ambled over, "Help me get John to the arena entrance." Both men pulling him along was more than John could shake off.

"I'm not going out there."

"Cue his music up," the tech nodded and moved to do what Punk said. John was turning to glare at Punk when he felt a kick to his back sending him flying past the curtain into the arena. Punk was so dead.

John joined Bret and started tearing down del Rio. He realized halfway through his promo that he was mocking del Rio down with more brilliance than usual. Maybe just proximity to Punk made him sharper.

Eventually John let del Rio get a word in edgewise and all that resulted in was del Rio volunteering Rodriguez to fight him. This whole situation was just getting more laughable by the second. He decided while he was out there owning del Rio he might as well start making matches too, particularly Bret Hart vs. Alberto del Rio.

For once, Laurinaitis didn't make an ass out of himself and scheduled Bret Hart and himself vs. del Rio and Rodriguez. It was going to be one hell of a lopsided victory but he would take it.

John returned to the monitor banks and sat next to a smirking Punk.

"You think you're hilarious don't you?"

"It's not just me that thinks that. Probably over half the people in this room and the majority of the audience thinks I'm funny as hell too."

"Just so you know, at this moment, I am not one of those people."

They watched the rest of the show, Punk playing the role of witty commentator, until John had to go out for his match. Del Rio of course participated sparsely, throwing Rodriguez to the wolves, Bret making the ring announcer tap almost instantaneously to the Sharpshooter.

John made his way backstage again, and after showering, retook his seat beside Punk. Eventually, Punk left to go have his final showdown with Triple H.

John watched Punk go back and forth with Triple H. In the beginning, it was obvious to John that Punk wasn't on top of his game. There were pauses, as if he couldn't find the right words to express what he wanted to say when usually he was lightning quick. As the promo went on Punk became more like his old self.

What shocked John the most was Punk uttering the words, "I respect you," to Triple H. Punk would change his mind about Triple H 6 days before they were going to beat each other bloody.

As Punk went on he started to get more and more cerebral, saying things that probably were going over most of the WWE Universe's heads. Punk was straying away from work territory into some place that was more personal than anything he had ever dropped on the mic before. And that's when Punk said it, his and Triple H's real names. John feared that somehow Punk had sustained a head injury because he was violating the most important rule of all professional wrestling. And then Punk's mic shut off. They gave him another mic and in seconds that one cut out too. Triple H handed Punk his mic and it went the way of the rest. John winced. Punk was going to be ready to kill when he came backstage. Apparently Punk decided not to wait until he got backstage and knocked Triple H to the ground with a non-functioning microphone shot to the head.

John just sighed and dropped his head into his palms; he would have to be dating the craziest person on the roster.

Punk came back practically skipping with a manic gleam in his eyes. This was so much worse than pissed off Punk.

"You realize he's gonna bust you in the kneecaps with a sledgehammer now, don't you?"

"Eh, let him try. That was too much fun to even care about the repercussions."

"You're like a kid high on sugar, what the hell am I supposed to do with you tonight?"

"Are you taking requests? Because if you are…"

"Whatever you're going to ask for you're not going to get. Do you think I've forgotten that you turned your brutal mouth on me tonight, not to mention kicking me into the arena against my will?"

"Are you really going to withhold sex? Come on, it was hilarious."

John just looked at Punk blankly.

"Fine, fine, no more joking about your penchant for questionable apparel and physically kicking you into action."

"Let's just get out of here before you piss someone else off."

They got a cab to the hotel and took the elevator to their floor. They approached their door and John started patting his hands over his pockets.

"I can't find my key, you have yours?"

"Yeah, right here," Punk slipped the key in the lock, opening the door.

Just as the door was wide enough to admit them, John pushed Punk into the room with so much force that Punk ended up sprawled on his knees. John kicked the door closed with his foot, just standing there staring at Punk.

Punk turned his head to face John, "What the fuck!"

"What? You don't think it's so funny now, do you?"

Punk started to stand back up, "Actually I think it's hilar…" Punk's sentence cut off when John grabbed Punk's shoulders and forced him back down onto his knees.

"Excuse Me!"

"You sounded like Vickie just now."

"Oh shut up," and Punk made to stand again, John pushing him back down to his knees again. Punk just looked up at him wide-eyed.

"No funny little quips to deliver right now? That's fine. I'm not really in the mood right now to hear you talk anyway."

John moved one hand away from Punk's shoulders, bringing his hand up to Punk's mouth and rubbing his thumb over Punk's lips.

"I can think of much better things that pretty mouth of yours could be doing right now besides talking."

Punk hesitated for just a moment before opening his mouth and sucking John's thumb into his mouth. Punk looked into his eyes for a moment before lowering his eyes to John's groin. Punk slid his hands up John's sides, taking the t-shirt with it and lowering his mouth to John's navel, pressing soft kisses above the waistband of his shorts. John grabbed his shirt, lifting it over his head and tossing it aside. Punk continued kissing John softly until John grabbed his chin forcing Punk's eyes back to his own.

"That's not going to get it done tonight. I think you need to put a little more effort into it."

Punk nodded as much as he could with his jaw held in John's tight grip.

"See you can follow directions. I want the most fantastic blow job of my life, get to it."

He let go of Punk's jaw and Punk lowered his head again, quickly undoing his belt, unzipping his jeans and dragging them down his legs along with his boxers. John toed off his shoes then stepped out of his shorts and boxers, kicking them to the side. Punk braced his hands on John's hips, sucking John's cock into his mouth. John let him continue for a few minutes before he moved his hand to the back of Punk's head, grabbing a handful of hair. John could feel Punk yelp, the sound sending delicious vibrations down his cock.

"Sweetheart, as nice as that is, I think you can do better, don't you?"

With his hand still gripping Punk's hair, he pulled Punk's head forward until he felt the head of his cock brush the back of Punk's throat.

"Swallow," Punk complied, John's cock slipping down Punk's throat until Punk's face met his groin.

"Now suck me off like you mean it."

Punk began sucking vigorously, his head bobbing quickly, his tongue ring dragging against the vein on the underside of his cock. John began rocking his hips forward, hand still gripping Punk's hair. He began to fuck Punk's mouth with abandon. As he picked up speed he could feel Punk's throat begin to constrict around his cock as Punk fought to breathe. John's hips began to stutter forward as his orgasm approached. He pulled Punk's head forward viciously, his face pressed into John's groin, as he came down Punk's throat.

John stepped back until his cock slid out from Punk's mouth, leaving a trail of come and saliva across Punk's chin. John let go of Punk's hair, hand sliding around to Punk's mouth, rubbing his come into Punk's skin.

"That was definitely your best effort to date."

John's hand left Punk's face and leaving Punk kneeling on the floor. John walked away towards the bed, stripping off the comforter and tossing it to the floor. He laid down on his back, bringing his hand to stroke his sensitized cock, the saliva lubricating his movements.

"Get off your knees and come over here."

Punk got up and walked over to the bed, his eyes trained on the movement of John's hand.

"Take your clothes off, slowly."

Punk began to peel the layers of clothes off his body until he was standing there naked beside the bed, still watching John jerk himself off, cock hardening again. John moved his hand away.

"What are you waiting for? Ride me."

Punk put one knee on the bed, swinging the other leg over John's hips, lowering himself over John's cock. When John felt himself breach Punk's entrance he pulled Punk the rest of the way down forcefully until Punk was fully seated in his lap.

Punk leaned down to kiss John, John turning his head away at the last second. He bit down on Punk's ear, then began to whisper, "Why would I want to kiss you? You turned that cruel tongue on me tonight, making fun of the way I used to dress. I don't think you deserve to be kissed."

"John, please."

"Yes, exactly. I want you to please me, so start moving your hips before I move them for you," punctuating his words with a vicious squeeze to Punk's hips.

Punk sat up, bracing his hands on John's chest, and began to rock his hips swiftly.

"Yes, Phil, just like that."

Punk smiled and picked up the pace. Punk started moaning, obviously finding the right movement so that his prostate was being stimulated continuously.

"John, please, you've got to touch me."

"Have to? I don't think I have to do anything."

One of Punk's hands began to slide down John's chest toward his cock. John grabbed Punk's hand, stilling the movement.

"I don't think so."

"But John, please…"

John moved Punk's hand back to his chest.

Punk began moving his hips more vigorously, leaving John panting and moaning. John was so lost he almost didn't notice Punk's hand moving back down his body. He grabbed the hand at the last second, Punk letting out a high keening sound.

"Please, John, please touch me."

John sat up until they were chest to chest, taking Punk's hands and securing them behind Punk's back with one hand. He lifted his other hand and smacked Punk hard on the ass.

"Put your knees into it, get me off, I know you can."

Punk began to bounce and John began to moan loudly. John felt his balls begin to tighten and he was coming deep inside Punk. He flipped Punk onto his back, pulling out and sitting back on his heels staring at Punk.

Punk was breathing so heavily that it looked like it actually hurt to draw breath. There was a fine sheen of sweat covering his skin and his cock was so hard that it must be painful.

John ran a finger down Punk's thigh slowly, "I've absolutely wrecked you. I love it."

"John, please, please, touch me, you've got to touch me, please."

"See, now you're begging so prettily. I've been waiting all night to hear that. Do you think you deserve it?"

"No."

"That's an even better response."

Punk was practically vibrating waiting for John to touch him. After a few moments Punk lifted his head and looked at John pleadingly.

John finally relented and started jerking Punk off with slow strokes.

"Please, John, harder, please."

John began stroking Punk with a firmer grip and somewhat increased speed. He trailed a hand up Punk's thigh, sliding his hand between Punk's legs, inserted three fingers into Punk's already loosened hole. John pumped his fingers for a few moments then removed them, causing Punk to make a high keening noise, reaching up blindly with his hand, trying to bring John's hand back between his legs.

John looked at his fingers, coated with his come after coming inside Punk earlier.

"I do love the idea of you being filled up with my come. It's like marking my territory in a whole new way. Maybe I won't let you shower. Just the idea of you walking around with me inside you all day…I probably wouldn't last very long before dragging you to some secluded corner and fucking you so hard you you'd feel it for days."

The idea seemed to inflame John so much that he was back on Punk in a flash, working furiously to get Punk off. In minutes, Punk was moaning incoherently, tears leaking from his eyes, and his back arching so sharply it must be painful.

Punk came, screaming John's name so loud that there was no doubt that the neighbors in the rooms surrounding theirs heard Punk.

John lay down next to Punk, throwing and arm and leg over his body and nuzzling his face into Punk's neck, planting light kisses over his heated skin.

"What the fuck. You want to cuddle me after that?"

John just nodded into his neck, continuing to kiss him.

"Were you seriously trying to kill me?"

"What? That was awesome."

"Maybe for you, for me that was some sort of demented sexual torture."

"I bet you came harder than you ever have in your life."

"That's beside the point. Yeah, I came like a fucking freight train but that was after like 45 minutes of torment."

"You know you love me. Maybe in the future you won't be quite so gleeful at letting your snarky tricks loose on me."

"If I can't have a little fun at your expense from time to time this relationship is going nowhere."

"Just remember in the future that statement goes both ways."

"I don't think I'm going to be forgetting that anytime soon."


	33. Chapter 33

**September 18, 2011**

"How am I supposed to wrestle if I can't feel my fingers?" Punk complained while walking down the hallway in the arena, trying to find their locker room.

"I do these autograph signings constantly, your hands won't fall off I promise you," John responded.

"They might. I never had to do these before."

"That's when all the fans despised you. Popularity had its price. Are you ready for tonight?"

"I'm not sure a person can be ready to have a No DQ match, especially with Triple H. Even if I win, chances are that I won't be able to walk the next day."

"So I guess I can't expect a round of spectacular celebratory sex after I win the title tonight from del Rio?"

"I'm pretty sure you're going to be on your own tonight."

"You'll still be there for inspiration."

"Only if you find ice packs, heating pads and the smell of Flex-All enticing."

"It sounds like I'm going to be sharing a bed with my grandfather."

"That's exactly what my sexiness quotient is going to be like. Even I can't be alluring all the time."

"If I was still hot for you during your Straight Edge Society Days, when you were doing your best impression of a homeless person, I think I can handle you smelling like a medicine cabinet."

"Here we are 1B. I so dread these events when the entire company is on hand. You never know what assholes you might be changing next to. I guess starting out the evening highly annoyed is a better mindset than most to be going into a match with."

John and Punk walked into their assigned locker room. Someone had thoughtfully split the roster up so that none of the wrestlers were in the same room as their competition. John and Punk found two open spots near the back of the room.

"I'm not sure what's worse, being in the same room as all these smiley do-gooders or watching Mark Henry change."

"I think if you visualize that thought you'll come down on one side of that argument."

"Point taken."

John and Punk started dressing even though their matches were the main events and at the end of the show. Raw and Smackdown were a little more laid back, but at per-per-views everyone's attendance was expected at the monitor banks for the duration of the show. Punk pulled on a pair of shorts over his tights since it would be hours before he was expected to wrestle.

They made their way to the monitor bank; sitting in the back row so they could converse a little more freely than if they were surrounded on all sides by their co-worker's. Once everyone was assembled, the road agents came in a reviewed the card for the last time.

Punk was adjusting his kick pads and didn't see Evan Bourne turn around in his seat and stare and Punk for a few moments, like he was getting up the courage to even speak, "Punk, I just wanted to wish you luck tonight."

"Yeah, you too Evan," and Punk went back to adjusting his gear, not seeing the blinding smile Evan threw his way.

John had been watching the entire exchange with mild irritation, "You know, when he starts leaving love notes in your bag I'm going to have to punch him in the face."

"Are you requesting that I be more of an asshole to our co-workers, cause I can do that, no problem. Don't worry, you're the only dimpled nice boy I'll let get near me."

"Dimpled nice boy?"

"That's what my mother insists on referring to you as, it's stuck in my brain now."

"Any chance I'll get to meet this famous mother of yours?"

"Maybe between Raw and the next house show. Look, show's starting. Jesus, Miz and Truth are annoying."

John started to laugh, then seeing the look on Punk's face he shut up.

"Is that an implication that I'm annoying?"

"Speaking from personal experience, I am forced to be honest and say yes, but you're annoying in a totally clever way so it balances things out."

"I'll take that as a compliment. God, I hope Kofi and Evan kick their asses. Miz and Truth are numbers 26 and 27 of the people that like to interfere in our matches."

"Welcome to my world of being a target. Everyone looks at you like you're the next rung on their path to the top of the company."

John watched Miz and Truth take on Kofi and Evan with Punk's usual witty commentary in the background. Punk was obviously thrilled that Kofi and Evan managed to retain their titles.

"I would be threatened by this rare show of enthusiasm if I didn't know how much you hated Miz and Truth."

"Your jealousy is adorable."

"Oh shut up and watch the show."

They watched as Miz and Truth went postal and started to beat up the referee.

They both looked at each other as "Close Your Eyes" began playing through the arena.

"Christian isn't even scheduled for a match, what the hell is he doing out there," John said with a scowl.

"Who knows what deranged thoughts go through his head?"

Christian came out demanding one more, totally unearned, match. They were both delighted when Sheamus came out and leveled Christian.

"We really need to start being nicer to Sheamus, don't you think," John said happily.

"You can be nicer to him; I'll just delete the file on my laptop with the jokes about his hair and skin tone."

During the United States Championship match Punk all of a sudden sat up straight.

"What? Oh god, I know that smile, what insane thing have you just come up with?"

"Stay here, I'll be right back," and Punk got up quickly walking to the arena entrance area.

Punk was back 15 minutes later just as Randy and Mark Henry's match was beginning.

"Where did you go, or do I even want to know?"

"I got you a present."

"I know that wicked smile of yours. I'm not sure I want this present."

"You're going to love it. I'll give it to you right before your match."

They watched the match in relative silence. John growing more and more worried as Henry was manhandling Orton. John was visibly shocked as Randy lost the title to Henry.

"Thank God I'll be at the arena entrance getting ready to go out for my match when Randy finds his way here. I'm one of the few people he even speaks to and he's going to be ready to kill. The girls won't be out there for that long, I'd better get up to the front."

"Oh, here's your present, good luck" and Punk pressed something into his hand.

"You're giving me a set of keys?"

"Not just any keys."

"Okay, I'll bite, keys to what?"

"Del Rio's car."

"Seriously?"

"Enjoy your grand theft auto."

"I plan to," and John walked away towards the arena entrance.

Punk watched with pride and John gleefully rolled into the arena in the stolen vehicle, the outraged look on del Rio's face was especially hilarious. It was even funnier when del Rio's ring announcer was ejected from ringside.

He was watching John and del Rio trade offense as he felt someone sit next to him. He looked to the side and it was a visibly pissed Randy Orton sitting next to him. Orton just shook his head slowly and Punk realized that in this moment that there were times when it was better just to keep his mouth shut.

Punk watched for another 10 minutes and then got up to make his way to the entrance for his match. Randy spoke for the first time as he was getting up.

"Good luck."

"Uh, thanks?"

"You're going to need it, speaking from experience."

Punk just nodded his head and made his way down the hallway. He got to the gorilla position and resumed watching John. They seemed pretty evenly matched until Rodriguez ran out to interfere…again. That turned out to bite del Rio in the ass as John took the opportunity and locked in, admittedly, a sloppy STF on del Rio, who tapped out after about a minute.

Punk was busy watching John celebrate his Championship win that he didn't hear someone walk up next to him.

"You know. You two might be friends now, but you'll be back fighting each other in the ring at some point," Triple H said seriously.

Punk just turned his head back to the monitor where it was showing John still celebrating.

"What? No clever comment?"

"90% of the time I run my mouth off whenever I see fit, but the other 10% of the time I'm in the ring fighting, which I take deadly serious. It's that 10% right now."

Triple H just nodded his head and turned his attention to the monitor.

Punk just smirked at a defeated del Rio coming through the curtain. John came through a minute later and, obviously still high over his win, he scooped Punk up into a hug, lifting him off his feet. "Aren't you going to congratulate me?"

"Congratulations, now put me down," Punk said severely.

John placed him back on his feet with a look of confusion on his face until he spied Triple H standing watching them.

"Oh yeah, you two won't have any problems facing each other, right," Triple H said.

John opened his mouth to say something, but Punk cut him off.

"Not you too. Luck is for losers and I've been wished good luck by half the roster tonight."

"Fine, I'll keep my good wishes to myself."

"You do that."

"Cena, don't you have somewhere to be."

"No, I'm fine right here."

Punk's music hit and he walked through the curtain into the arena.

"I hope you're smart enough to keep yourself backstage and not get involved in things you shouldn't."

"I'll be backstage like a good boy. Can you say the same for your friend Nash?"

"I won't need any help beating you friend bloody."

"I sincerely hope that's the truth," and John walked away as Triple H's music hit and he entered the arena. John walked briskly to the monitor bank, only grabbing a towel as he sat next to Randy to watch Punk's match.

"You'd be better off going take a shower than watching this," Randy said coolly.

John just turned his attention back to the monitor.

Punk jumped Triple H before the bell, still in his t-shirt, throwing Triple H over the ring barrier.

"Does your boy have a death wish or something?"

John just shook his head resignedly.

Triple H recovered and started tossing Punk violently around the ringside area. Punk finally ending up lying behind the announce table which had been dismantled in the first minute of the match.

Both men eventually ended up back in the ring, engaging in something that loosely resembled a wrestling match but it soon spilled back outside the ring. The two men were tearing each other apart.

"If you're going to flinch every time he gets hit you're going to hurt yourself."

Punk and Triple H were all over the arena, throwing each other into any semi-stationary object they could find. They were pretty evenly matched beating the hell out of each other.

John eventually couldn't watch anymore. He lowered his eyes to the ground but he could still hear Punk's periodic screams.

"Your boy just put Triple H through the announce table from the top rope."

John didn't know whether to be proud or aghast.

"Son of a bitch," Randy said venomously.

John looked up. There was Miz and Truth running out to the ring. John expected interference but not from that camp. Miz and Truth seemed to be indiscriminately beating both Punk and Triple H. They eventually rolled Punk on top of Triple H, but Triple H kicked out before the 3 count. They then turned on the official, berating him and then beating him as savagely as they had Punk and Triple H who were still laid out.

John jumped up but Randy pulled him back down.

"Look Laurinaitis is coming out."

"Right, because his presence always improves matters."

"Look Punk's back up."

Both Triple H and Punk were back up and they evicted Truth and Miz from the ring. While Punk was still eyeing Laurinaitis, Triple H came from behind, pedigree-ing him, but there was no official to count. A second official ran towards the ring but for some moronic reason Laurinaitis directed him to see to the fallen official instead of counting the fall.

While Triple H was trying to get the official into the ring, Punk recovered, connecting the GTS when Triple H turned around. Laurinaitis sent the official to count the fall but Truth pulled Punk off Triple H, sending Punk outside the ring.

"I have no clue what is going on here, and I have a mind well practiced in malicious plots," Randy said with some confusion in his voice.

"That's it. I'm going out there."

"And what? Be the 447th extraneous person involved in this match. Do you want Punk to still be speaking to you after this is all over? Sit your ass down."

The ring was finally only occupied by Punk, Triple H, and the official. Triple H hit the pedigree but Punk somehow kicked out.

John saw Laurinaitis start texting, and then Nash was walking through the crowd toward the ring. This match was a freaking circus.

Nash stepped over the barrier, and then went into the ring, beating up on both Triple H and Punk. Nash went to jackknife powerbomb Triple H but Punk broke it up, only to be the recipient of the move he had spared Triple H.

Nash resumed attacking Triple H, clearing off the announcer's table. The camera angle only showed Nash. Then from the corner of the screen Triple H came into view, blasting Nash in the head with his patented sledgehammer, knocking Nash out.

John was relieved when Triple H dropped the sledgehammer and climbed back into the ring without it. At least Punk would be spared that. Triple H pedigreed a barely recovered Punk and got the pin.

John, at that moment, didn't care who won the damn match, he just wanted Punk backstage and away from all of that chaos. Fucking HD, he could see the red welts and bruises already forming on Punk's skin.

John practically ran to the arena entrance and waited for Punk. Punk came limping through the curtain. John reached out to help him but Punk flinched back, "Don't touch me."

Punk limped onward to the locker room, John following silently. When they got to the locker room Punk pulled on a shirt and shorts and grabbed his bag. John pulled on a shirt and grabbed his stuff. He tried to take Punk's bag but Punk jerked his shoulder free from his hold.

John continued to follow him silently out of the ring, into a cab, and then up to their room. The second the door closed behind them Punk collapsed to the ground.

"Fuck, Phil, couldn't you have let me help you?"

"I will not look weak."

"Come on; let's get you in the shower."

John pulled Punk up to his feet and sat him on the bed, pulling off his kick pads and his boots. He finished undressing Punk and then began pulling off his own clothes.

"John, seriously…"

"Oh shut up, this has got to be the unsexiest situation I've ever found myself in. Someone has to make sure you don't fall over and bust your head open in the shower."

He tried to quickly clean them both off but a wet Punk slipped through his arms and fell to a sitting position on the shower floor.

"Just leave me here."

"To what, accidentally drown yourself."

John pulled Punk to his feet and practically dragged him out of the shower and to the bed.

"Okay, what hurts?"

"Shouldn't you be off celebrating your Championship and not Florence Nightingale-ing me?"

"Stop being an ass and tell me what you need."

"Aspirin and I have those ice packs in my bag."

"Coming right up, don't move."

John rifled through Punk's things and brought back the ice packs, aspirin, and some water.

"Thank you."

"You're a real terror when you're not well."

"I'm glaring at you over here; I just can't move my head to look at you."

"Glare away. Okay, under the covers, try to sleep some of it off, if that's at all possible. The flight to Cleveland for Raw is early. Are you going to be okay?"

"I'll have to be won't I?"

"Try to rest," and John situated himself on the space left beside and sprawled out Punk.

"You can sleep in the other bed, I won't be insulted."

"I'd sleep like hell all the way across the room from you, I'm fine here. Try to sleep."


	34. Chapter 34

**September 19, 2011**

"Phil, wake up."

"I'm awake. I barely slept. I need you to go find a knife or a pair of scissors or anything sharp."

"Do I want to know why?"

"I'm going to cut out my own tongue."

"Huh?"

"I'm never speaking again. My mouth got me into this so I've decided that I'm going to go through the rest of my life as a mute."

"You must really be in a lot of pain if you're going to resort to self-mutilation."

"I feel like I'm 80 years old and been run over by a bus."

"Well get your ravaged senior citizen body out of bed, we don't have much time to make the flight."

"Get me some aspirin and I'll consider getting out of bed. I hope Triple H is satisfied with his ill-gotten win and I don't end up wrestling Khali so he can get some sadistic thrills at my expense."

"Having been in matches like this in the past, and considering what you did to him last night, I'm pretty sure he's in the same amount of pain you are. I don't think he's going to be bragging about that win over you last night. It took the involvement of like 6 other people to beat you. Those aren't exactly stats to be proud of."

Punk finally got out of bed and hobbled over to his suitcase to get dressed.

"Let's just get out of here. The plane trip is going to be torture, scrunching into tiny seats suck when all my parts are working correctly, I can't imagine how horrible it's going to be in my present condition. Plus, we're going to Cleveland, home of some of my most unspectacular career moments. Cleveland hates me."

"I'm sure the entire city of Cleveland, Ohio does not hate you, just about half of them."

They finally made it to the arena for Raw. Punk was stopped almost immediately by one of the road agents.

"Triple H wants to see you in the ring first thing tonight. He said to go out there and do your thing and he'll meet you out there."

"Yeah him and how many other guys?"

"What?"

"Nothing. I'll be out there."

"Also, you both have matches tonight," the road agent said and then walked away.

"Fine, we'll get ready," John said good-naturedly while Punk glared daggers at the back of the road agent.

"God, I hate this city."

Punk walked to the arena entrance, still limping slightly, his neck feeling like someone was stabbing him repeatedly. He had no idea how he was supposed to go out there and be entertaining in his current condition, much less wrestle in a match. He could go out there and pretend like nothing was wrong but lying wasn't exactly his forte. His music cued up and he gingerly walked out to the ring.

He decided to level with the audience, not pretend that he wasn't hurting, he also wasn't going to pretend that he didn't hate their stupid arena. He started to talk about what had been bugging him all last night. Even though Triple H was prone to lying here and there, maybe he wasn't the person responsible for making life since his return complete chaos. He was just giving voice to that idea when Triple H's music cued up. Triple H said to come out here and do his thing, but apparently that didn't include his very valid conspiracy theories.

Triple H made his way to the ring, looking like he was in as bad a shape as he was which he actually admitted to when he got to the ring.

For some reason Triple H started talking about John. Punk had a feeling that Triple H's talk last night about him and John's friendship wasn't just casual remarks.

Punk was shocked when Triple H announced him vs. del Rio vs. John at Hell in a Cell. He had beaten the hell out of the COO last night and he was being rewarded for it?

Punk picked up where he left off, that there was a conspiracy in the WWE and, though it pained him immensely to say, it didn't involve Triple H. Somehow this conversation just magically summoned Laurinaitis to the ring, interrupting him and Triple H as if he was the boss, not Triple H. That probably wasn't going to sit well with the COO.

Laurinaitis came out and straight up called him a liar. He didn't know exactly who was pulling the strings here in the WWE but it was obvious that Laurinaitis was more than likely responsible for some of the calamities that had befallen him lately.

He started in on Laurinaitis, making use again of his incredible skills of mimicry where Laurinaitis was concerned. Then he shocked himself when he called Triple H Hunter. Somewhere on this highway to hell he had ended up with some modicum of respect for the man.

Punk let loose his theory that Laurinaitis was trying to supplant Triple H as COO and Laurinaitis confirmed his theory when he said that Triple H had lost control of Raw. He looked at Triple H out the corner of his eye and damn did he look pissed.

Laurinaitis started droning on about him not having any respect for him and saying that Punk worked for him. That was obviously one step too far for Triple H when he got between them and asserted that Laurinaitis worked for him.

Laurinaitis announced that every crazy thing that had gone on could be laid at his door, and then Laurinaitis gave his patented future endeavored line and fired him; he could only laugh at the man. Hunter immediately jumped in and un-fired him.

Hunter announced that he was going to get to the bottom of the current clusterfuck and by the end of the night someone was getting fired. He left him and Laurinaitis in the ring together and Punk took the opportunity to mock the powerless VP of Talent Relations.

Laurinaitis soon exited the ring behind Triple H. He hoped the COO had eyes in the back of his head so he could see Laurinaitis sticking the knife in.

Punk returned to the monitor bay and sat next to John.

"I hope you brought me an outline or a flow chart or something because I am so confused," John said tiredly.

"That's what happens when you are completely devoid of nefarious plotting skills. Have you heard anything about your match yet?"

"No, you?"

"Nothing."

"So you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"Don't play coy with me; I was here watching the whole time. Looks like you and I are going to be stepping back into the ring together."

"We're the best that this company had to offer, it was bound to happen eventually. I already have a plan. We can just beat del Rio within an inch of his life, toss him out of the ring, and settle things between ourselves."

"So, it's back to being CM Punk and John Cena. At least it's Hell in a Cell, so that'll cut out the constant interference."

"Thanks a lot. You just jinxed the hell out of us. A crane is gonna descend from the ceiling, ripping the roof off the cell and 20 of our co-worker's are going to drop in like paratroopers."

"Isn't that a little farfetched."

"You live my life for a while and see if you don't start worrying about even the most extreme of possibilities occurring."

Punk and John watched the show both of them on edge not knowing what was in store for them during Raw.

"Oh, del Rio looks pissed. Guess he didn't take the Hell in the Cell news well. Poor Morrison, del Rio is taking the news out on him. How long was that match, it couldn't have been more than a minute," Punk said with mild amusement.

John was prevented from responding when Punk elbowed him in the ribs, "Look, it seems Miz and Truth got called into the principal's office."

Punk and John could barely speak they were laughing so hard at Miz and Truth both being fined $250,000 for their actions at Night of Champions. They started laughing harder when Hunter set the match between them and Miz and Truth.

"Of all the matches that we could have been involved in, at least it's one we're both going to enjoy," Punk said, obviously pleased with the situation.

"And we get to team together. I'm not sure how you managed it but you seem to have gotten on Triple H's good side."

"That place doesn't exist. He's just feeling especially vicious tonight and for once it's not aimed at me. I'm going back to the trainer's room; see if I can't get my body into some sort of working order."

"I'll come with you; Raw's just not as enjoyable without you there supplying your clever barbs."

Punk had a wrap around his neck, trying to work out the kinks when there was a knock on the door. It was one of the backstage directors, "Oh good, you're both here. We were wondering if we could get a shot of you two, discussing tonight's match and the match at Hell in a Cell."

They both nodded and Punk let John take the lead which proved to be a mistake. John was all smiles, talking like they were best friends, heading into a match together. Punk took control of the conversation adding in a couple of sarcastic quips at the end. The camera guy cut the shot and then exchanged a baffled look with the director.

"Uh, thanks guys," and they left the trainer's room.

"John, seriously, you need to find Cena mode and find it quickly, we're not supposed to like each other remember."

"Yeah, I guess I'm just out of practice. I could say tonight you can just sit around and mock me continuously for a few hours but I don't think I'd last that long. You in full on CM Punk mode has always excited more than insulted me."

"Except for that time you hit me."

"You called me the Yankees. And if I remember that night correctly, and trust me I do, I later busted my way into your room and tried to seduce you."

"Ah yes, our first kiss. Who knew we'd end up where we are now."

"I knew."

"Really."

"I knew after that first kiss that I wasn't going to stop until you were mine. I love you Phil."

"I love you too. Now let's go out there and kick a little ass."

"Foreplay. Excellent."

_AN: Summer doesn't last forever, so this part of the story has ended, but I fully intend to write a sequel picking up where I left off. I want to thank everyone for your wonderful reviews, they helped a first time fic writer gain the confidence to keep this story going. Not sure when I'll start the next phase of this fic, but I've become addicted to writing it so it'll probably be sooner rather than later. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it._


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